Anywhere I Lay My Head
by jetsfanforlyfe
Summary: Jason Cross has carefully hidden his painful past from everyone around him. When everything falls apart, he turns to the streets to avoid facing reality. Three and a half years later, Troy Bolton finds him, and starts him on the road to recovery.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Obviously, any characters, scenes, scenarios, etc, you recognize do not belong to me. They belong to Disney. I do own Jason's father, and later on, Cara and Michelle and anyone else you don't recognize.

A/N: This is probably my favorite piece ever. It's been at least a two years in the making, if not three. Ever since I started thinking about Jason, and about Jason's character, I've really wanted to do something that explored his character in detail, explored what makes him tick and why he is the way he is. I thought about it, threw around ideas, and wrote some one-shots, as well as "The Longer You Stay," which is still in progress (I promise xD). Over time, this developed. I kept going back to trademark Jason, the Jason we see in the movies, and feeling like there should be something more, some explanation. I know this is a stretch, but it's not like we really have anything to work with for Jason. So "Anywhere…" was born.

This is the prologue, which picks up in the middle of the story, then chapter 1 goes back to the beginning, and the story follows through, past this point, to its conclusion.

WARNING: This is definitely a very, very dark piece. It's wildly AU, and involves a lot of speculation and revision of canon. It starts out lighter, but if I follow my inclination, it's going to be pretty graphic on the drug use/alcohol abuse/sexuality/child abuse/etc.

Read with that warning in mind.

Enjoy!

* * *

Troy Bolton walked briskly out of the mall, packages weighing down his hands, a smile on his face as he breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been home from college on Christmas break for all of two days, but had put off his shopping until the very last minute, rushing to the mall on Christmas Eve, fighting the crowds and the craziness that was last-second shopping. As it was, he had barely managed a spot, having had to park as far as possible from the mall entrance.

"Troy Bolton?"

Turning at the sound of the familiar voice, Troy smiled. Anthony Wright, an old friend of his dad's, was striding toward him, clearly having just accomplished the same feat Troy had, as his right arm was laden with shopping bags.

"Leave the shopping until last minute?" Troy joked good-naturedly, grasping Anthony's free hand.

"I notice you've done the same," Anthony quipped, looking Troy up and down. "Jesus, Troy, you've grown like two feet since I last saw you."

"Anthony, that was last year. That's impossible."

"But still, you look good. College treating you okay? What're you, in your second year?"

"Yup. Just finished for the semester."

"Basketball still working out for you?"

"Absolutely. I've got about a week off from Christmas, then we're back to training after the New Year."

"Glad to hear it. Listen, Troy, it was great seeing you. I've gotta run, though, Kathy's getting restless. You know we're having our third in about a month?"

"Dad mentioned it when he came up for the last game. Kathy doing alright?"

"Yeah, just getting a little tired. Doc put her on bed rest. Anyway, I've gotta get going. Tell your dad to give me a call sometime this week, we'll get together.

"Will do. Tell Kathy best of luck from me," Troy replied, shaking Anthony's hand again and smiling as the man hastened to his car. Filing away the mental reminder to tell his dad to call, Troy set off again for his own car, readjusting the bags on his arms as he went. Reaching the SUV, he unlocked the trunk, carefully arranging the packages in the back, smiling as he saw the bag from Zales resting at the top. He was planning to ask Gabriella Montez to marry him that Christmas, something he'd been planning for the last six months.

Shutting the trunk and smiling, Troy moved to the driver's side door, fumbling with the key before finally managing to unlock the door. Opening it, he was halfway into his seat when he looked up. Something a short distance away caught his eye, huddled on a bench at the edge of the parking lot. Shaking his head, Troy started up his car, but something continued to nag at him, an unsettled feeling deep in his stomach. After another minute's hesitation, Troy made up his mind.

Yanking the key from the ignition, he climbed back out of the car, making sure to shut the door behind him. Crossing to the bench in a few sure strides, Troy paused, wondering what had drawn him so intently to the figure huddled there.

A young man was curled in on himself on the bench, clad only in a tattered flannel shirt and jeans that had clearly seen better days. Troy couldn't see the man's face, but it was obvious there was something wrong with him. Even in clear unconsciousness, the man was shivering rather violently, his knees drawn up to his chest in an attempt to keep himself warm.

Apprehensively, and still unsure why exactly he was reaching out to this homeless man, Troy tapped him on the shoulder. Receiving no response, he tried again, more forcefully. The man's head lolled to the side, and Troy got his first clear look at his face. Troy gasped, realizing that the man he'd taken to be nearly thirty, was barely twenty. Vivid bruises stood out on the teenager's pale skin, marring nearly all of his features.

Drawing closer, Troy reached out again tentatively to tap the teenager's cheek, wondering to himself how this kid had found himself alone on a bench, shivering and unconscious the day before Christmas. As he came within inches of the teen, however, Troy's hand was stilled. There was something familiar in the bruised face, something keeping Troy drawn to the figure on the bench.

With a start, Troy realized what he was seeing, though the hair framing it was significantly longer than he'd last seen it. Tears forming in his eyes, he placed a gentle hand on the teenager's shoulder.

"Jason?"

Jason Cross stirred feebly, his eyes barely opening as Troy called his name.

"God, Jason? Is that-is that you?"

At this second attempt, Jason forced his eyes open, looking blearily at Troy, clearly having difficulty focusing on the face in front of him. He recoiled in panic as Troy reached toward him again, crying out in pain as he hit the back of the bench, his right hand instinctively curling around his ribs, his left lying at an odd angle beside him, clearly useless.

Troy bit back a cry of surprise, chewing his bottom lip as he panicked, thinking desperately how to reach the teen he'd once called a close friend.

"Jase, it's-it's me. It's Troy. I-oh, God."

"Troy?"

The broken whisper, spoken as almost a sob, nearly cracked Troy's resolve as he inched slowly toward the hurting teenager. Jason backed away again, his left arm held stiffly at his side.

"Jason, we-I've-I mean-are you ok?"

"Troy?"

It was clear now to Troy that Jason was not comprehending much of the situation, and that it was costing him dearly to utter that one word-Troy's name. Swiftly making up his mind, he crossed to his friend in a second, wrapping his arm around Jason's shoulders.

"Jason, I'm taking you to the hospital. You need help."

He bent, intending to pick up the teen in order to carry him to the car, when Jason lashed out viciously, his fist catching Troy full in the face. Spitting blood, Troy back slowly away, trying to ignore his friend's feeble attempts to fight him.

"No! No, please, please, leave me alone. No more, please," Jason sobbed, renewing his struggles as Troy paused.

"Jason, please, I just-oh, Jesus, Jason, I just want-" Troy stuttered, unable to form a full sentence as Jason continued to fight weakly. He clutched the other teen's shuddering form to him, slightly heartened when Jason's struggles began to die down. The fight was quickly sapping Jason's energy, and he was reduced to sobbing brokenly into Troy's shoulder, tears falling quickly from beneath his eyelashes.

Startled, Troy held Jason to him, his own tears starting to fall from his eyes. Here was the friend he had searched for, sought for years. Jason had run away the spring of their sophomore year of high school, and despite their desperate searches, had evaded them until this very moment. As Troy held his sobbing friend in his arms, the weight of three-and-a-half years' guilt pressed upon him, making him desperate to stop the hurt Jason was so clearly experiencing.

"Jase, I'm going to make this right," Troy whispered, continuing to embrace his friend. "I'm going to make you right."

Gathering his resolve, Troy stood, hooking an arm under Jason's knees, the other bracing his shoulders as he lifted Jason in his arms. The other teen protested weakly, but was too overcome to do much other than sob. Troy felt his heart break again as he carried Jason to the car, alarmed at how light his once athletic friend had become. Carrying Jason to the car, Troy settled him in the passenger seat, reaching across Jason to buckle him in, not missing the way Jason shrank away from any touch.

"What the hell happened to you?" Troy muttered, settling himself in the driver's seat and starting the car. "What have we done?"

--------

Troy pulled around to the ER entrance, ignoring the signs forbidding parking in the ambulance bay. He figured that an unconscious teenager was definitely grounds for breaking the rules. Tires screeching, he pulled to a halt directly in front of the doors into the hospital. Taking one last look at Jason's shivering form, he threw open his door, running for the entrance.

"Help!" he cried, skidding to a halt in front of the triage window, any further entry barred by the security doors on either side of the glass partition. He barely noticed the scores of people already sitting in the waiting area, sporting everything from bloody noses to knife wounds.

"Sir, please sign in and take a seat," the triage nurse said tiredly, looking up from the patient she was assessing. "There are dozens of people ahead of you, I'm sure-"

"No, you don't understand. It's my friend, he's out in the car. He's-"

"Sir, please, I assure you-"

"No!" Troy interrupted, aware that he was beginning to draw an audience. "He's having some kind of attack, he won't stop shivering."

"Is he conscious?"

"No, and he was barely breathing when I ran in here."

"Where's your car?"

"Outside." Troy pointed through the doors to illustrate his point.

Standing, the nurse turned to a colleague, directing her to take the patient to an exam room. Slinging her stethoscope around her neck, she stood, pressing the security release as she walked around to Troy.

"Take me to your car," she told Troy, pausing only long enough to shout behind her shoulder to another colleague. "Mark! Get a gurney and meet me outside!"

In a matter of seconds, they reached Troy's SUV, Troy pulling open the passenger side door, allowing her access to Jason's shivering form. Just behind them, Mark, the orderly she had shouted to, appeared, pulling a gurney with him.

The triage nurse, Laura, climbed into the car, kneeling next to her patient. She quickly placed two fingers on his neck, feeling for a pulse while looking him over.

"Jesus," she whispered, feeling the erratic beat beneath her fingers. Turning to the orderly, she barked another order while whipping her stethoscope off her neck. "Run inside, and get Dr. Carter. Tell her we've got a high-risk kid about to arrest out in the ambulance bay."

Waiting only for Mark's affirmative, Laura turned back to Jason, ripping apart the teen's flannel shirt, inhaling sharply as she took in the mess that was his chest. Placing the bowl of the stethoscope to Jason's chest, she began to listen for breath sounds. Troy hovered at her elbow, barely concealing his own shock as he saw the bruises and lacerations that littered Jason's chest. He was particularly horrified by the deep cut on Jason's side, which had been badly sewn together and was oozing a nasty mixture of blood and pus.

"What's his name?" she asked Troy, frowning as she replaced her stethoscope and began running her hands along Jason's ribs.

"Jason. Jason Cross. He's nineteen."

"How long has he been like this?"

"Unconscious? He passed out on the way here, about five minutes ago. He's been shivering like that since I found him, though."

"Do you know what he took?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Drugs. What'd he take?"

"I-what?"

Troy's shock was interrupted when a young woman ran through the doors, her white coat trailing behind her.

"What've we got?" she asked, running up to the car, quickly looking at Jason before addressing the nurse.

"His name's Jason Cross, he's nineteen. Obvious signs of withdrawal, highly erratic heart rate, severely depressed breath sounds, and track marks on his arms. His vitals are out of control."

"What's with the bruising on his chest?"

Laura shrugged. "He's got some cracked ribs from what I can tell, but other than that I don't know. And there's that god-awful laceration on his flank, but who knows."

"Alright, let's get him on the gurney and into Trauma. Who's this?"

"Friend, brought him in."

"Alright, kid, we're taking your friend into a room. Why don't you move your car to the garage, and then head on in and wait inside."

"But-"

"You've done all you can. Let us take care of him," Dr. Carter assured Troy, gently pushing him aside as she stepped up next to Laura. "You can see him once we've assessed his injuries."

"But Jason-"

"Mark, help us get him out of here and onto a backboard," Dr. Carter barked over her shoulder, firmly ignoring Troy's pleas. Troy stood aside, watching as the doctor and her colleagues worked to stabilize Jason, before they slid him gently out of the car and onto the waiting gurney. As Jason was quickly whisked away from him, Troy found himself staring blankly at the spot where, just seconds before, he had watched the doctor work feverishly over his injured friend.

Seeing Troy still standing beside the car, Laura stopped following the gurney momentarily, backtracking quickly to Troy's side.

"Listen, kid, I know you're scared, and I know you're worried. But you got him here, and that's the best you can do for now. Park your car, get a cup of coffee, and then come back inside. We'll come find you when we know how he's doing."

"Okay," Troy acquiesced, nodding his head. He shut the passenger door quietly, his eyes following Laura as she ran back into the ER, barking orders at staff members as she went.

--------------------

An hour later, Troy sat in the waiting room, carefully avoiding the eyes of the room's other occupants. A now-cold cup of coffee rested at his feet, left behind in his worry for Jason. Troy clasped his shaking hands between his knees, to stop himself from tapping his fingers against the arms of his chair, as he'd been doing for the last thirty minutes.

Looking up for what seemed to him the thousandth time, Troy scanned the glass doors to the treatment rooms for Jason's doctor, his eyes falling back to the floor when he wasn't rewarded. Passing a shivery hand over his eyes, Troy stood, grabbing the Styrofoam cup from the floor and crossing to the nearest trashcan. Tossing it in, he extracted his cell phone from his pocket, stepping outside into the growing dusk, hitting speed dial for his house.

After two rings, his mother answered, a laugh in her voice as she finished asking his father a question.

"Mom?"

"Troy? Sweetie, how's the shopping going? You've been awhile, aren't you almost home?"

"Mom, I-" Troy broke off, gathering himself to figure out the best way to break his news. "I found Jason."

"Troy," Lucille began, clearly not registering what her son had said. "It's Christmas Eve, you should-what?"

"I found him. He was passed out on a bench in the parking lot."

"Troy, Jason? Jason Cross? Are you sure it's really him?"

"Yes, mom, I'm positive."

"Where are you now?"

"I had to bring him to the hospital mom, he was-he is-"

"Troy, what is it?"

"Oh, god, mom, he's awful. He's in such bad shape, he's a mess. They've been with him for over an hour, and I haven't heard anything. I don't-mom, I don't think he's gonna make it."

"Oh, Jesus, Troy," Lucille whispered, any trace of her previous happiness gone in a second. "Troy, I'm coming with your father, we'll be there within the hour, okay? Just hang on."

"Okay," Troy replied, glad that some of the weight was being lifted from his shoulders. "And mom-don't tell Andrew, okay? I don't think Jason needs to see him."

-------------------

An hour after Troy's parents, Jack and Lucillie, had arrived at the ER, they were finally rewarded with the reappearance of Dr. Carter, the doctor who had rushed to Jason's aid hours previously. She crossed immediately to Troy, looking interestedly at the two new arrivals.

"Dr. Carter?" Troy asked apprehensively, terrified by the look on the doctor's face.

"Listen, kid, I know you brought your friend in, but I really am going to need to talk to his parents."

"I don't think that's possible," Jack muttered, his face darkening.

"Excuse me? And you are?"

"Jack Bolton. This is my son, Troy, and my wife, Lucy. I was Jason's basketball coach three and a half years ago."

"Well, Mr. Bolton, I'm afraid I can't reveal Jason's condition except to his family-"

"Jason has no family," Troy whispered, looking at his father.

"He has no family? Surely his parents-"

"Look, Dr. Carter is it?" Jack began, placing a hand on Troy's shoulder. "Jason's family life has been-complicated, to say the least. As it is, the is the first we've seen or heard from him in nearly four years. We're all he's got."

"You mean to say-"

"Please, doctor, tell us if he's going to be okay," Lucille pleaded, her tone desperate.

Dr. Carter sighed, looking from Lucy, to Jack, and finally to Troy.

"Jason's condition is grave. He's suffering from extreme withdrawal symptoms, following years of drug abuse. He's got a hairline skull fracture, several broken ribs, and he's suffering from severe pneumonia, dehydration, and malnutrition. He's got a hell of an infection from the half-sutured stab wound on his side. His left hand is shattered, his arm broken in four places, the shoulder and elbow dislocated. We're waiting on the results of the blood tests to see if he's contracted any sexually transmitted diseases that could be hampering his recovery, the most worrisome being HIV or hepatitis."

"You think-"

"If he's been living on the streets, he's at high risk for any number of things. It's truly a miracle that he's made it this far in the condition he's in. Now, really, I'd like to speak to a parent or guardian regarding where we go from here with his treatment."

"He ran away," Troy continued whispered, the shock of Jason's condition affecting him deeply. "His mom died when he was four. His dad-" Troy trailed off.

"His dad?" Dr. Carter prompted, her tone expressing that she knew what was coming.

"His dad used to beat him. A lot," Troy conceded, hanging his head.

"Is that why he ran?"

"Yes."

---------------------

A/N: So that's the prologue. It's a little lengthy, but you won't see it again, because when I reach this point in the story I'm going to write it more from Jason's point of view (in a way) than Troy's.

Reviews greatly appreciated. =D

Peace and love,

jetsfanforlyfe


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue. Characters and High School Musical belong to Disney.

A/N: This is the true beginning of the story. This first chapter contains small glimpses into Jason's life from age 4 until age 14, with later chapters detailing his final years at home, and the reasons he decides to run, as well as his life on the streets.

WARNING: This chapter involves intense images, pretty graphic descriptions of child abuse, cutting language, and general angsty-hurt/comfort goodness.

Enjoy!

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Screams. The first thing that greeted the scores of police and paramedics that reached the scene of the two car accident on the highway were the screams of a four year old boy trapped in the back of the smaller of the two cars. The small child was wailing without abandon, blood dripping lazily down his cheek from a cut on his temple, his little arms flailing about as he cried for his mother.

It took three medics to free the child from the car, to subdue him long enough to ready him for the trip to the ER. His mother, however, received no such treatment. The first medic to the car had reached through the shattered window, and finding no pulse beneath his fingers, left her temporarily to tend to her young son.

Several hours later, little Jason Cross slept peacefully in a hospital bed, dwarfed by the tubes and wires surrounding him. His father, Andrew, had yet to be in to see him, apparently too busy with the arrangements for his wife's body to spare a moment for his desperately wounded son.

Jason's nurse sighed, reaching to brush the little boy's bangs from his forehead. Jason had suffered severe internal bleeding, which had taken a pediatric surgeon three hours to locate and fix. Now, Jason merely lay, pale and still, upon the bed, drawing every nurse in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit to his side by his adorable face.

"It's terrible, isn't it?" a quiet voice at the door broke the young nurse, Kelly, from her thoughts. The on-call resident was leaning against the doorframe, gazing sadly at his patient.

"His mother's dead, isn't she? And his father hasn't even been up to see him."

"It was a bit of a nasty scene down in the ER, I've heard," the resident, Dr. James, replied. "The guy completely lost it. Went mental after he saw his wife. They had to sedate him."

"I hardly blame him," Kelly breathed, tears filling her eyes. "He's lost his wife, and now he could very well lose his son."

"I'm going to make sure that doesn't happen," Dr. James replied. "This kid has enough to deal with. He's going to make it, and he's going to be okay."

------------------

Six year old Jason Cross sat by himself in the corner of his kindergarten classroom, hugging his knees to his chest and watching the other children play happily. Jason was easily the oldest in the room; after the accident that took his mother's life and so very nearly his own, Jason had spent months in the hospital, recovering, and months at home with his father, desperately avoiding Andrew Cross' increasingly violent temper. As a result, he'd missed the entrance date for kindergarten, and was forced to wait a year before enrolling in school.

Two years without his mother had affected Jason badly, and it showed. He was quiet and withdrawn, no longer the happy, bouncing little boy he'd been before. Very few noticed the change, as Jason had been too young to have many serious friends, and his father had been too upset to allow Jason to see his mother's friends and their children.

As Jason watched, a small, shaggy haired boy was whispering to his darker-skinned best friend, the two occasionally glancing in his direction. Scooting further from their glances, Jason picked up the blocks resting on the shelves, busying himself with building a tower.

Barely a minute later, he turned, finding himself looking directly into the smiling face of the boy, his best friend standing at his shoulder.

"Hi!" he greeted Jason energetically, holding out his hand. "My name's Troy. This is Chad. You're Jason, aren't you?"

"Yes," Jason whispered quietly, terrified by this sudden change in his situation.

"You walk home by yourself every day, don't you?"

Jason nodded.

"Well, where's your mommy? Why doesn't she pick you up? Or your daddy?"

"My-" Jason began, looking at the floor. "My mommy's gone. She went to heaven when I was four."

Troy's smile faded, though he clearly did not appreciate the deep sadness behind Jason's words.

"Well, where's your daddy then?"

"He's busy. He-he works a lot," Jason whispered quickly, knowing how much trouble he'd be in if he revealed what his father truly did, that he wasted away the day, drowning his despair in alcohol.

"Ohhh." Troy nodded, looking at Chad. "Well, me and Chad were thinking that you could come with us today. My mommy said she'd be taking us for ice cream, and we thought maybe, because you always look so sad-"

"Okay," Jason whispered, a small smile beginning to creep onto his face. This was the first time in two years that anyone had reached out to him, expressing an interest in him.

"Great! Listen, Jason, come play with us. Me and Chad are practicing our hoops, you know, cause one day, we're gonna be stars in the NBA!"

-------------

By seven, Jason's life had seriously taken a turn for the worse. His father had begun to come home drunk, using more than words to scold his only child, often leaving Jason sobbing on the floor in pain, clutching his side painfully and struggling to breathe.

It was hard to hide this fact from his friends, particularly from Troy, who seemed to want to pry into every detail of everyone's life, but Jason did his best. He knew that if his friends found out what he went through at home, that they'd tell someone. And Jason knew that would not be a good thing. His daddy was mean enough as it was, he didn't think Andrew would take kindly to Jason spreading stories about him.

He made sure never to show his bruises to Troy or to Chad, to hide any pain when they accidentally bumped him, to politely decline when they asked him to come over after school. He didn't think they suspected anything, and it made him happy to know he at least could control that one aspect of what was happening to him-he could hide everything from his friends.

-------------

By his eighth birthday, Jason knew the difference between cracked and broken ribs, the quickest way to stop bleeding, and the most efficient way to bind a broken finger. He knew how to wrap sprains, treat dehydration, and that the easiest way to avoid a coma after a concussion is to stay awake. He'd been in and out of free clinics and doctor's offices more times than he could count, but never staying longer than it took to bind his ribs, set his broken bones, and whisk him away before Child Protective Services could be called, and never returning to the same place twice.

He'd already suffered two dislocated shoulders, a broken wrist, a fractured ankle, and broken his nose three times. It had even gotten to the point where Jason thought he might have to learn to stitch himself up, in order to avoid the awkward questions that always arose when they went for medical treatment.

Through it all, Andrew Cross got meaner, and his drinking grew even further out of control. The only explanation he offered his son came in the form of blame and anger, always directed at Jason, always involving Carrie.

Jason didn't understand _why_ his dad blamed him for his mom's death. After all, he'd only been four. He barely even remembered it himself. He really didn't think that he'd had anything to do with it, but that hardly stopped Andrew's ranting tirades, now always accompanied by flying fists, and more often than not, broken beer bottles.

It was the hardest nights, when Jason lay curled on his bed, nursing a fresh batch of broken ribs and a freely bleeding cut or two that he let himself cry. Jason cried for himself, he cried for his mother, and he cried for his father. He cried because he couldn't understand what he'd done. He cried because sometimes, it felt like this was the only release he'd ever get.

----------

On his tenth birthday, Jason received something he'd never thought he'd get from his father: a gift. Granted, his father's form of a birthday present didn't come wrapped in paper and a bow, nor was it something he could take to school and show his friends, but Jason would take whatever he could get.

Andrew Cross's idea of a birthday present involved fists, a bat, and a flight of stairs. When Jason woke nearly four hours, crumpled on the basement floor, unable to move his left arm, he'd been overcome with the most severe pain he'd ever felt in his life. It was another two hours before Andrew had sobered enough to go looking for his son, and three more on top of that, in which Andrew had unceremoniously dragged Jason up the stairs to avoid awkward questioning, before he'd decided Jason's condition warranted the ER.

After hours of sheer agony, Jason welcomed the drug-induced sleep the doctor offered him. It was only two days later that Jason woke again, to find himself in a world of pain and stiffness, in unfamiliar surroundings.

"You're awake, then?" a soft voice to his right asked, a gentle hand reaching for his wrist, taking his pulse.

"What-?"

"Happened? Don't you remember?" The man's face came into focus, and Jason realized it must be his doctor.

"I-I don't-"

"It's alright Jason, you suffered quite the fall. My name is Doctor Wilkinson. You've been under my care for the past few days."

"What?"

"Your dad called 911 when he found you outside. The fall fractured your collarbone, and sprained your ankle. Also gave you a rather tricky concussion, which is why you've been asleep for two days now. You've also got some broken ribs, and a lot of cuts and bruises. The most worrisome injury, though, was that you ruptured your spleen. We had to remove it during surgery."

"Oh," Jason breathed, the sling holding up his left arm becoming clear to him, a wave of pain washing over him. "My-my dad?"

"He went back to work, but he sat with you all night. He's very worried, Jason."

Jason couldn't keep the snort of disbelief that escaped him at that statement, and it was clear the doctor picked up on it.

"Jason, your dad said that you fell out of a tree. That wasn't what really happened, was it? On your x-rays-"

"I-uh-I mean-yes," Jason interrupted, knowing that his face was flushing even as he stumbled over his lies. His father had beaten the stories into him countless times, but Jason had always found that, when it really came down to it, he was an awful liar.

"Jason, you can tell me if your dad is hurting you. You can trust me."

"I-I mean, you-we-"

"Jason, if you can't talk to me, I can have someone else-"

"No! No, please, I really-I really did fall. Honestly." Jason rushed through his story, terrified at what his father's reaction would be if CPS were called.

Dr. Wilkinson seemed to pause for a moment, clearly wanting to press the issue, but the utter terror in Jason's eyes stopped him.

"You'll have to be in hospital for at least another three weeks. We can call your school for you, have your work sent over so that you don't fall behind. I'll be back in a few hours to check on you, okay, Jason?"

Jason nodded, and the doctor left, taking Jason's chart with him. Signing off on it, he handed it to the charge nurse on the pediatric ward, who took it and flipped through his notes, frowning.

"Dr. Wilkinson, why do you have Jason Cross down for a three week stay? He's only got a broken collarbone and a concussion, he'll be ready to go by tomorrow."

"Just trust me on this one, Linda. I think Jason will heal better here, than at home. Just let it be."

"If he's being abused-"

"Linda, there's just something about this kid, okay? Let it go."

So for his tenth birthday, Jason got a three-week stay in the hospital at the hands of a benevolent doctor, three weeks in which he was free from his father's fists, free to heal fully for once, and free to enjoy himself.

--------------

Three years passed, and Jason had grown into a handsome teenager, the horrors of his past merely something he dealt with every day, much the way his classmates dealt with relationship issues and their increasing homework load.

"Jason! Jason, man, you don't look good," Troy Bolton called to his friend, watching as Jason slowed to a crawl on his fourth lap around the gym. Normally, the other boy would be at the front of the class, with Troy and Chad next to him, the three of them easily lapping the others and heading straight for the basketball hoops.

Troy watched his friend anxiously, his worry ratcheting up a notch when Jason stumbled, reaching out to brace himself against the wall. It was as Jason started to slide down the wall that Troy started running, and he was at his friend's side in a heartbeat, dropping to his knees. Chad wasn't far behind, hovering behind Troy, clutching the hem of his gym shirt.

"Jason?" Troy asked, reaching out to touch his friend's shoulder. Jason shrunk away from his touch, his arms curled around his ribs, his breath coming in short gasps. "Jason?"

"Can't-breathe-" Jason managed to choke out, his lips beginning to show a tinge of blue even as Troy watched.

"Oh my god," Troy breathed, his hands shaking as he flew into full-blown panic mode. "Oh god, um, Chad-go-go get Ms. Walters, like now!"

Troy was barely aware of Chad running away behind him, of the rest of their class gathering in a circle, of their teacher's shouts as she pushed her way through the students to reach them. All Troy was aware of were Jason's shuddering gasps for breath, and the gradually increasing blue tinge of his lips.

Angela Walters knelt next to Jason, her fingers instantly finding his carotid artery, taking his pulse.

"I've called an ambulance, Jason. What is it? What's wrong?"

"He can't breathe!" Troy cried, his voice betraying his panic. Couldn't she see what the problem was?

"Are you hurt, Jason? Is it your ribs? Your ribs hurt?"

Jason nodded weakly, his breathing becoming even more labored as tears started to stream down his cheeks. Angela noticed, and gently helped Jason lay back, brushing his hair from his face.

"You'll be alright, Jason. Just try and breathe, sweetie, the paramedics will be here soon."

As if on cue, an pair of medics pushed through the doors to the gym, a gurney between them bearing their medical supplies.

"What's going on?"

"This is Jason, Jason Cross. He's having trouble breathing."

"Jason, my name is Alex. Can you tell me where you're hurting?"

Jason didn't speak, but merely gestured vaguely at his chest, unable to speak as his weak gasps became more and more difficult.

Alex nodded, reaching behind him to grab a pair of scissors from his bag, motioning for his partner to start setting up an IV line and EKG leads.

"I'm just going to cut your shirt off, okay, Jason? So we can get a better look at your chest."

Jason's eyes widened as Alex started at the hem of his gym shirt, and Jason weakly tried to slide away, shaking his head.

"Jason, what is it?" Alex asked, momentarily stopping his progress. He followed Jason's eyes to the crowd around them, resting on Troy, who stood nervously next to Chad, both boys wearing a mask of fear.

"Can we clear this area out?" Alex asked the gym teacher, gesturing at the kids gaping at Jason on the floor. "Give him some room?"

"Of-of course," Angela agreed, nodding. She started herding the kids into the adjacent hallway, making sure that Jason was free from prying eyes. By then, the assistant principal had arrived in the gym, and Angela felt safe leaving the kids in the hallway while she returned to Jason.

"Kid, go outside, okay? Your friend is sick, we need to be able to work here."

Troy remained rooted to the spot, his eyes glued to Jason's face. It was Jason's silent plea that sent him into the hallway, though, sliding to a spot on the floor next to Chad, his face buried in his hands.

"Is that better, Jason? Would it be okay if we kept going?"

Jason nodded hesitantly, shifting his eyes to the ceiling as Alex finished cutting away his shirt. He didn't need to hear the gasp from the few adults left to know that they'd seen what he was trying to hide.

"Holy god," Alex breathed, his hands stilling as he looked at Jason's chest. The teenager's torso was mottled black and blue, several of his ribs visible clearly, pressing against the skin.

"Jason, did someone do this to you?"

"I got-" Jason started, breaking off weakly to catch his breath. "Mugged. Yesterday. Beat me up."

"Why didn't you go to the hospital, Jason? You've obviously sustained severely broken ribs-"

"Thought-was-okay. Didn't hurt."

Alex looked at his patient appraisingly, before deciding that the true nature of Jason's injuries wasn't as important as fixing those injuries. After working quickly to stabilize his breathing, the two medics loaded Jason into the ambulance, quickly carting him away to relative safety.

Several hours later, Jason was in surgical intensive care, after surgery to repair his punctured lung and badly damaged ribs. It had been another close call with his teacher and the doctors, but Jason thought he'd bluffed his way out of another vicious beating from his father. Andrew Cross himself had dropped in for ten minutes on his son, long enough to warn him of the consequences Jason would face if CPS were called, and to ask how long he'd have to be here this time.

Troy, however, had not been to see his friend, but had spent the afternoon sitting in his dad's office at the high school, thinking over everything that had happened. He had a sinking feeling that something just wasn't _right_ with Jason, but he couldn't put his finger on it. After all, Jason hadn't missed more than a day of school since fifth grade, so whatever it was couldn't be that bad, right?

--------------

By age fourteen, Jason had found a second release to augment his few-and-far between bouts of crying. He'd become an accomplished cutter, having found that self-inflicted pain always made him feel in control, that it gave him something to hold onto, to make his own.

He never cut deeply, and never in the same spot twice. Always on his upper arms, or on his thighs, where no one would think to look. He could wear short sleeves when his dad hadn't bruised up his arms, and no one ever thought to look twice when he had on a sweater, even in the middle of the summer.

If Jason noticed Troy's increasingly worried glances in his direction, he didn't let on. If he noticed that Troy walked as if on eggshells around him, he ignored it. He knew deep down that Troy suspected something, but he hoped-and prayed-that Troy wasn't close to discovering his true secret.

It had become much harder as he grew older to hide from his teachers, but especially from his friends. They'd been playing basketball more often, trying out for the East High team, all of their dreams coming true before their eyes. Yet as he watched Coach Bolton interact with his son, teaching him the correct way to line up a three-pointer, Jason couldn't help but feel sad.

-------------

The summer between his freshmen and sophomore years of high school was the hardest for Jason. Troy and Chad were increasingly spending time playing basketball, in the park, the backyard, the street, the driveway-anywhere they could find a hope and enough space. Jason, however, was stuck inside, nearly bedridden by the latest injury his father had doled out to him.

At the beginning of the summer, Andrew had told Jason to let Troy and Chad know that he would be away all summer, on vacation. It was really Andrew's way of making sure that no suspicions could be raised if Jason happened to end up in the hospital, as he did barely a week into the summer holiday.

A particularly violent bout involving a baseball bat had left Jason comatose for three days, a subdural hematoma putting pressure on his brain and needing emergency surgery to relieve. He'd spent two more weeks in the hospital, only to return home to what he assumed was a brief respite from Andrew's "affections."

This latest injury left Jason with debilitating headaches, and dizzy spells that sent him to his knees, the room spinning violently before him. He was almost glad for his father's insistence on total isolation, as it meant that neither Troy nor Chad could see him in his current state.

Jason spent that summer in utter misery, especially when Andrew decided that Jason was well enough to help out around the house again. It was with a new sense of depression that Jason went back to school in the fall, knowing in his heart that he would not be able to keep it up much longer. Eleven years of suffering had been enough. He was nearing the end of his quickly fraying rope, and feared what would happen when the rope finally snapped.

--------------

A/N: So that was quick, and rather jumpy. It was just flashes into Jason's life from age 4 until age 15. The next two or so chapters will detail his life from 15-16, and the reasons and motivations he has for running. I'm also going to go more into Andrew's character, and definitely show some interactions between father and son.

Also, as this is rather personal for me: I do not condone cutting, nor do I condone child abuse. If you think someone you know is cutting or is a victim of abuse, please try and get help. Seek out someone who can help you. It's never too late.

Until we meet again,

jetsfanforlyfe


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue. I'm a poor college student, I can't afford it. Characters, concept of HSM, etc. belong to Disney.

A/N: I'm glad this story is getting a good response. There doesn't seem to be a market for Jason centrics anymore…there doesn't really seem to be much of an HSM fandom anymore, but that's alright. I love writing this story, which is why I'm taking it slowly, to enjoy writing it.

Here's chapter 2. Basically, it's during September of Jason's sophomore year. I've taken liberties with canon-the musical takes place earlier, and in sophomore year here, so that Jason can meet Kelsi, which will become rather important. This takes place at the end of September/beginning of October.

Also, auditions for Twinkle Town take place in this chapter. Gabriella moved to East High at the beginning of the year. I really played with canon. A lot.

Same warnings as before apply. With a STRONG warning for language this chapter.

Enjoy!

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"Where the fuck have you been?"

"I have school, dad, and then basketball. We've been through this every goddamn day this week."

"It's five-thirty. I told you I wanted you home at four, didn't I?"

"Dad, what can I do? Skip basketball? Coach is already pissed enough that I missed all last week-"

The slap that cut Jason off echoed loudly in the entryway of the tiny apartment.

"You wanna end up where you were this summer, huh, Jason? Keep running your mouth."

"Like that's ever stopped you," Jason muttered darkly, clenching his fists at his side to avoid touching his face to examine the damage. Lately, Andrew Cross' fists had been finding purchase in more visible places, most notable Jason's face and arms. In the past, the damage had been easy to hide, under t-shirts and sweatshirts, but it was getting harder to do so as bruises and black eyes seemed to remain on Jason's face for weeks.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Jason spat back, straightening up, facing his father full on. There was a flash of anger in Andrew's eyes, making Jason regret his outburst almost immediately. He had barely a second to prepare himself before a fist caught him full in the jaw, driving him to his knees.

"You never fucking learn, do you? How many times have we gone through this?"

The end of Andrew's question was punctuated by a vicious kick to the ribs, forcing Jason sideways. Jason curled protectively around his ribs, knowing that any chance of defending himself had disappeared as soon as Andrew had gotten him on the floor. Sure enough, the first kick was followed by two more, the second accompanied by a loud crack.

"Fu-" Jason whispered, tears pricking at his eyes. He knew immediately that one of his ribs was broken, and injury he'd not sustained in at least a year, though he knew the pain from many other incidents.

"You're weak, Jason. You always have been. I didn't ask for a son like you. Fifteen fucking years old, and all you can do is cry like a two year old. Fucking useless, you are."

The end of this speech was greeted by several more kicks to Jason's now unprotected abdomen, and a final kick to the head. Jason gasped, stars exploding behind his tightly clenched eyes, agony blossoming behind his temples.

"You've been a fucking burden since your mother, Jason. I wish you'd died with her."

Andrew shook his head, finishing his brutal attack with one more kick to the head, turning on his heel and walking to the living room, beer bottle swinging in his hand.

Cracking open one eye, Jason made sure Andrew was sufficiently occupied with the television and his beer before attempting movement. His first attempt at rolling to his side sent him hurtling toward unconsciousness. Breathing heavily, Jason ceased moving, trying desperately to control the nausea that had settled in his stomach.

His summer stint in the hospital had left him more vulnerable to head trauma, as he'd found out only too soon after being released. Any small blow to the head sent him nearly into oblivion, fiery pain spreading across his head, driving him nearly insane with agony. This was the worst attack he'd endured since the summer, and Jason was pissed. He'd lost control, egged Andrew on. If he'd shut up, he might have made it without the extra kicks to his head.

Scoffing, Jason tried again to move, successfully managing to roll to his side with minimal increase in the pain he was feeling. Slightly encouraged, he stopped to catch his breath, before completing the roll onto his stomach. His broken rib pressed painfully against the floor, Jason struggled to draw breath. Positioning his hands under his body, he managed to push himself off the floor slightly, dragging himself into a sitting position.

Stars exploded behind his eyelids, and a soft whimper escaped his lips as his arm instinctively curled around his ribs. Andrew had really worked him over this time, and Jason thought miserably of basketball practice the following day, knowing he was going to have a difficult time making it through without raising a red flag with Coach Bolton.

Steeling himself, Jason slid to the nearest wall, bracing himself against it. Taking a breath, he slowly pushed himself to a standing position, leaning heavily against the wall for support. His first step towards his bedroom nearly sent him crashing back to the floor as a dizzy spell overcame him. Leaning back against the wall, Jason waited for it to pass, the room spinning dangerously before him.

When he was sure he'd be able to take another step, Jason set off for his room, one step at a time, carefully not to jostle his broken rib, moving as slowly as he could. The painstaking process took him nearly half an hour, and when he finally reached his room, thanking god that Andrew had remained occupied, he collapsed onto the bed, unconscious within seconds.

-------

The next morning, Jason gingerly extracted himself from his car, tears nearly pricking his eyes as his rib jostled painfully. He suppressed a yawn, reaching back into the car for his coffee and backpack. As soon as he'd regained consciousness, nearly three hours after he'd first passed out, Jason had set about bandaging his ribs, downing four Advil for his headache and shuffling to the living room to check on Andrew. Finding his father unconscious on the sofa, he'd started working on his homework, not finishing until nearly five in the morning. It was merely his routine-what he did every day.

Groaning, Jason slung the backpack gently over his shoulder, his coffee in his left hand as he began the painful walk toward the school.

"Jason! Hey, Cross, wait up!"

Troy's voice rang clearly across the parking lot as he ran to catch up to Jason. The latter paused, turning slightly to greet his friend.

"Holy shit, man, what the fuck happened to your face?"

"What?"

"Jase, you've got a black eye bigger than a basketball, and your cheek is all torn up. What the hell happened to you?"

"Nothing!" Jason answered quickly, too quickly for Troy's liking.

"Jason-"

"Troy! Jason! Hold up!"

"We weren't going anywhere," Jason muttered as Chad Danforth joined them.

"Jesus Christ, Jason, your face!"

"We're finished discussing it," Jason said dismissively, as though the matter were solved. He turned and walked purposefully toward the school's entrance.

Chad and Troy shared a look behind Jason's back, each knowing exactly what the other was thinking. Something wasn't right with Jason, and it was becoming clearer every day.

-------

"Fuck."

The simple word was all Jason need to convey his feelings as he struggled to put his backpack in his locker. Homeroom was starting in two minutes, and Darbus would kill him if he were late-again.

"Need some help there?"

The soft voice at his elbow startled Jason enough that he dropped the backpack, cursing violently as he made to retrieve it.

"I've got it," the petite girl stopped him, easily bending down and picking up the bag, forcing it into Jason's overstuffed locker. "See? It fits." She flashed him a dazzling smile, and Jason found himself awed. He vaguely recognized her as the drama club's composer, the girl who sat in the front of homeroom and never talked.

"You're-you're Kelsi, aren't you?"

"And you're Jason. Jason Cross."

He returned her smile, his pain momentarily forgotten as he truly looked at her for the first time. She was wearing a knit hat, perched lopsided on her head, complimenting her oversized sweater and pink leggings. For the first time he could remember, Jason was focused on something.

"What happened?" she asked, genuine concern etched on her face.

"Oh, this? Brother. We get a little rough with each other, you know? Just brothers being brothers, though."

"It looks pretty awful though. Does it hurt much?"

"Not really. It's just a bruise," Jason replied quickly, shutting his locker door and shifting his first period books into his arms. "We should get going, anyway, Darbus will be-"

Jason was cut off by the warning bell, signaling that they were two minutes from being marked tardy.

"Shit," he cursed, turning on the spot, wincing when his broken rib protested the jerky movement. Catching the look on Kelsi's face at his outburst, his face flushed immediately.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I just-I hate being late."

"It's okay, Jason," Kelsi replied sincerely, smiling to let him know she meant it. "You need help with those books? You look ready to fall over."

"Uh-yeah. Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks."

Kelsi slid Jason's heavy history book onto her own pile, repositioning her books as the two set off for homeroom, each smiling happily.

-------

"Finally, auditions for this year's winter musicale will be held during free period. Our very own Kelsi Nielson composed and wrote this year's show, something which we are very, very proud of. Now, on the subject of the recent ban on cell phones-"

Jason let Ms. Darbus' voice fade from his ears, his eyes becoming slightly glazed as he let his mind wander. He knew his propensity for tuning out conversations gave him a reputation for being stupid, but it wasn't entirely true. Jason wasn't the best in the class, but he made good grades; the constant daydreaming was a habit borne of his attempts to escape his father's abuse at home. He'd mastered the technique of traveling mentally to another place as a way to cope with his father's beatings.

Jason's mind strayed to Kelsi, and how much she had affected him that morning. He'd never really taken notice of her before-she sat in the front of the classroom, was nearly always the first to leave the room at the bell, and she rarely spoke. She followed Sharpay and Ryan Evans around everywhere, and was constantly in the drama room or the music room, even for hours after school.

He didn't know that she was a composer, though-Jason was beyond impressed that she had written and composed an entire show on her own, and he filed away a mental note to see the play. As his thoughts strayed away from the musical and back to Kelsi, he found himself looking in her direction, a smile gracing his face as he saw her scribbling furiously in a notebook, paying as much attention to Ms. Darbus as he was.

For the first time since meeting Troy and Chad, Jason felt he had a fresh start with someone. Kelsi knew nothing of his past, and he planned to use that to his advantage. When he was ready, he'd tell her some of what he'd gone through as a child. As it was, he was planning to ask her to eat lunch with him that very day, more than eager to strike up a friendship.

------

"Didn't learn your lesson last night, did you?"

Andrew Cross' voice rang out clearly from the darkened living room, nearly sending Jason crashing to the floor in surprise. He'd entered the apartment well after eight, hoping and praying that Andrew had already passed out. When he'd seen the darkened entry way and living room, Jason had thought he'd made it, before Andrew's declaration let him know otherwise.

"Basketball. Coach-"

"Jack fucking Bolton is not the problem here, Jason. You are."

Andrew stood, walking slowly toward Jason, who remained rooted to the spot in utter terror. Andrew held a baseball bat in his left hand, smacking it idly against his right as he walked toward the teenager.

"Dad, I swear to God, I had basketball practice."

"You said basketball ends at four, Jason. It's eight-fifteen."

"Okay, so I stayed after to work on homework. Please, dad, I was just-"

Andrew cut off the rest of the sentence with a violent swing toward Jason, who ducked just in time to avoid being hit.

"Who were you with, Jason? Troy again? You spend so much fucking time with him, I'm amazed he hasn't brought the cops banging down the door."

"Troy doesn't know anything, dad, I swear to fucking god," Jason pleaded, a note of panic in his voice. Andrew was angrier than he'd been in a while, and Jason was cowering on the floor, arms raised protectively over his head to avoid a repeat of the summer's events.

"I don't think so, Jason. You see, Troy suspects something. He has to. You're weak. You can't keep a secret, can you? I bet you've told everyone, and they're coming this very moment to cart me off, huh?"

"No, dad, I'm not fucking kidding, I haven't told anyone!"

The end of Jason's panicked statement was greeted with a blow from the bat, brought down hard on his left arm. Screaming, Jason fell fully to the floor, clutching his injured arm to his chest.

"Then why the fuck did I get a call this afternoon from Matsui, huh? Seems to think you've been getting in a few too many fights with your "brother" lately, showing up with too many bruises. They're suspicious."

Jason's heart sank. Someone had brought the matter to East High's principal, necessitating the call home. Jason ran quickly through everyone who'd seen him that day, from Troy to Chad to his teachers and Coach Bolton. Fleetingly, he thought of Kelsi, but immediately wrote her off, as they'd only just begun talking that day, and surely she wouldn't betray him so soon.

"Dad, I haven't told anyone. I haven't fucking said a word, I swear to god that I haven't."

"See, Jason, I just don't believe you. I don't have the patience to deal with CPS right now. I'm getting a little fucking tired of your antics, you worthless piece of shit. I should've just killed you years ago."

"Then just fucking kill me," Jason screamed, his anger at the situation boiling over. His arm was killing him, throbbing mercilessly as he held it to his chest.

"Maybe I will," Andrew snarled, bringing the bat down again on Jason's already injured arm. The teenager screamed again, only ending when his voice gave out, leaving him sobbing.

"You're the worst son I could've asked for, you know that? You're a failure, and you're the reason you're mother is dead. Why the fuck they left me with you, I'll never know."

"Fuck you, dad."

"Excuse me?" Andrew's voice was dangerously low, the bat swinging ominously at his side.

"You heard me."

"You haven't learned, have you Jason? Shut-your-fucking-mouth." The final four words were accompanied by blows to Jason's chest and abdomen, leaving the teen curled around himself, sobbing brokenly into the floor.

"Keep your mouth shut here, and at school."

With one final kick to the ribs, Andrew shook his head, looking with disdain at his son, lying crumpled on the floor.

---------

"Have you seen Jason today?" Troy asked Chad, worry creeping into his voice. He never met me in the parking lot, and he wasn't in homeroom."

"He wasn't in English, either. You think-"

"I don't know what to think anymore, Chad. He's showing up with all these bruises on his face, and hiding god knows what else from us. He's quiet, he's intense-I mean, he's always been like that, but never so much so. I'm worried about him."

"I know, me too. I think I saw him talking to Kelsi yesterday, that composer chick, you know? The one who wrote that awful show you went out for yesterday?"

"Nielsen? Why was Jase talking to her?"

"Who knows? Seemed kinda odd, but they had lunch together. Maybe she's seen him?"

"Worth a shot. She's probably in the music room."

Together Troy and Chad set off for the music room, sure enough finding Kelsi sitting at the piano bench, playing through a song spread out in front of her.

"Kelsi?"

She looked around, frowning slightly.

"Troy Bolton. What's up? Come to tell me you're not actually doing the musical?"

"Far from it. Have you seen Jason?"

"Jason Cross?"

"That's the one."

"Not since yesterday. Why? Is he alright?"

"He's not in school. I'm-we're-we're worried about him."

"Is this because of the bruises on his face?" Kelsi asked, standing up and shuffling her music into a folder, sliding it into her backpack. "I saw them yesterday, he was having trouble with his locker. Seemed like he was nursing a broken rib, too."

"I noticed. I went to the nurse about it, she sent me to Matsui. Apparently he said he'd call Jason's dad, see if anything was going on."

"Where's his mom, then?"

"You don't know?" Troy asked, his voice dropping immediately as sadness filtered into his tone.

"What?"

"I mean, I guess Jason just didn't want to tell you until he knew you better but-Jason's mom, she died. When he was four."

"Oh my god," Kelsi breathed, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She had felt an inexplicable connection to Jason the day before, drawn to his clearly damaged psyche almost like a moth to a flame. Something about him just screamed out to her, made her want to hug him and let him know everything was going to be alright. It seemed her instincts were well placed, as Jason had clearly suffered at least once in his life, if he wasn't continuing to suffer now.

"Do you guys-I mean, his dad-"

"I've always thought Andrew Cross was an asshole," Troy stated bluntly. "He never came to Jason's games, never picked him up from practice. I mean, I wouldn't doubt that he'd lay a hand on Jason, but it's kinda a big step from absent to abusive, you know? Jason never says anything about what it's like at home, I mean-none of us have ever been over there."

"Do you know where he lives, though?"

"Yeah, out on Flischer Street," Chad replied, pointing over his shoulder by way of demonstration. "I saw him going into an apartment complex on my way to the doctor one day."

"You think we should go see if he's alright?"

"Couldn't hurt. We'll take my car during free period. Let's meet in the parking lot, okay?"

"See you then."

When free period rolled around, Troy went out to his car to find Kelsi and Chad already waiting for him. Unlocking the car, he waited from them to get settled before starting up the engine and pulling out of the parking lot. It was a ten minute drive to Jason's apartment, spent in tense silence. When they pulled up outside the building Chad indicated, the three got out of the car, walking silently to the door and locating the name Cross above one of the buzzers.

There wasn't an answer, and when Troy tried a second time, they were rewarded once again with silence. Cursing, Troy tried the outer door to the lobby, surprised when it opened easily.

"Great security, huh?"

"This isn't exactly the greatest part of town," Kelsi replied, a note of sympathy for Jason in her voice. "I can't believe he lives out here, there isn't anyone our age around here at all."

"No wonder he never had us over," Chad muttered, shutting the door behind them as they entered the tiny lobby.

"Guess we're taking the stairs," Troy gestured at the stairwell across from the door, the only other feature of the tiny space. "What number did that say?"

"4C."

"Let's go."

The three teens trudged up four flights of stairs, finally reaching the fourth floor. Locating the door to apartment C, Troy raised a hand, knocking insistently.

"No answer."

"Try again."

Troy knocked again, this time listening for any sound inside the apartment.

"I'm coming, hold on a fucking minute."

A voice that clearly belonged to Jason's father sounded through the door, sending shivers down Kelsi's spine. Andrew Cross did not sound like a pleasant man, and when he wrenched the door open a moment later, she knew her assessment was correct.

"Mr. Cross?" Troy asked, looking the man up and down in disgust. "Is Jason home?"

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Troy Bolton, and this is Chad, and Kelsi. Jason wasn't in school today, so-"

"It's none of your fucking business where Jason is. He's sick, didn't feel up to going to school today."

"What's he got?" Chad asked, clearly disbelieving Andrew's claim.

"The flu. Now clear out."

"Can we see him?"

"Excuse me?"

"Can we see Jason, make sure he's okay? We're worried about him, you know, if he's sick we'll need to get his homework-"

"Fuck off, Bolton."

"Excuse me?" Chad asked, his voice rising in anger. "You speak to Jason like that?"

"I talk however the hell I want to. Now get out."

"Not until we see Jason," Troy insisted, folding his arms and staring down the man. Andrew sighed, knowing he wouldn't get the teen to budge.

"He's in his room, that one there. Fuck off after you see him, I don't need you lot here all night."

Apprehensively, Troy watched Andrew walk back into the living room and sink onto the couch, opening another beer. He then led the other two to the door Andrew had indicated, knocking tentatively.

"Fuck off, dad, I'm not in the mood."

"Jason?"

"Troy? What the fuck?"

The sound of shuffling footsteps preceded Jason opening the door, looking in shock at the three people standing in the hallway.

"What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

Jason's questions went unanswered, as all three teens found themselves staring at Jason's left arm, bound up in a cast and sling, held close to his body.

"What happened to your arm?"

"I fell. Hit the concrete. Broke it in two places."

"Really, Jason, what happened?" This time Kelsi voiced the question, her voice soft and filled with pity, forcing Jason to look away to avoid seeing her expression.

"That's what happened. Now why are you here?"

"We were worried, you weren't at school and-" Troy trailed off, his eyes glued to something he'd seen on Jason's bed. His eyes traveling to Jason's sleeve, his sinking suspicions seemed to be correct. Jason was wearing a three-quarter length sleeved shirt, the sleeves falling just below his elbows, the left bunched above his cast. A thin line of blood was clearly visible seeping through the right sleeve, something Jason had not noticed.

"Jason, what is that?"

----------------

A/N: Kinda cliffhanger, but I think you can guess. So that's that. Troy's getting suspicious, Jason and Kelsi are beginning to notice each other, and Jason's life pretty much sucks.

Next chapter has Troy trying to get Jason to talk to him, open up about the cutting and the abuse, but Jason just keeps shutting off. Also will have some of Kelsi being there for him.

Until we meet again,

jetsfanforlyfe


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue. Characters/HSM belongs to Disney.

A/N: Sorry this took a little longer. Work has been killing me, and I went to see Half Blood Prince at midnight Tuesday, so I've been exhausted beyond belief since then.

This story is really running away from me. Everytime I sit down to write, I end up adding in at least five more plot points that hadn't existed before, and I'm loving where it's going. I'm just letting this one develop as it comes to me.

Same warnings as before.

Enjoy!

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"Jason, what is that?"

Jason shifted uncomfortably in front of the door, trying to block Troy's view of his bed.

"What is what?"

"There's a blade on your bed, Jason, and it's covered in blood. There's blood on your shirt."

"I scraped it on some fence is all," Jason bluffed weakly, knowing Troy wouldn't be satisfied. Jason kept his eyes determinedly on the floor, avoiding Kelsi's gaze, which was becoming more and more pitying, and avoiding Chad's eyes, which were watering with unshed tears.

"Jason, let me in," Troy commanded softly, gently pushing his friend aside, gaining entry to the room. Resigned, Jason followed Troy as he crossed to the bed in three sure steps, fully aware that Kelsi and Chad were watching the scene unfold from the doorway.

Troy picked the straight razor off the bed, his stomach turning as he took in the dark stain coating the sharp edge.

"You were cutting yourself."

It wasn't a question. Jason swallowed thickly, still afraid to tear his eyes from the floor. He heard a soft sob from the doorway, and attributed the sound to Kelsi. No one moved, however, and Jason was forced to look up, into Troy's eyes. What he saw there nearly made him look away again in shame. Troy was staring at him with a mixture of sadness, pity, anger, disappointment, and, most distressing of all, fear.

"I-" Jason began weakly, quivering under Troy's gaze. "Yes."

The silence that greeted Jason's affirmative was so thick it was nearly palpable. Troy turned the razor in his hands, looking from the blade to Jason's arm and back again.

"Roll up your sleeve, Jason."

Once again, it wasn't a request, but almost a command. Meekly, Jason gestured awkwardly to his left arm, indicating that he'd have trouble. Kelsi walked slowly over to him, placing her hand gently on his forearm. Taking Jason's right sleeve in her free hand, she began to roll back the fabric, biting back an exclamation as the damage to Jason's arm became visible.

The fresh cut he'd clumsily inflicted with his casted arm lay horizontally across his bicep, small rivulets of blood tracking lazily down his skin from the uneven slice, which had been hastily covered with a single Band-aid. An intricate network of pale scars similar to the fresh cut crisscrossed Jason's skin, in varying degrees of color. The newest were pink, skin freshly knitted together; the oldest were thin and white, some barely even visible.

"How long?" Troy asked, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper. His eyes were glued to Jason's arm, to the incomprehensible amount of damage Jason had inflicted on himself. Kelsi's hand was still resting on his arm, her face pale as her own tears splashed onto Jason's skin. Chad was clutching the door frame, his knuckles white and his face betraying his fear for his friend.

"Since I was thirteen."

"Since-holy shit, Jason, for three years?"

"Pretty much," Jason muttered, drawing his arm from Kelsi's grasp and struggling to shake his sleeve back over the scars.

"Jase, why? I mean-holy god, Jason, this is insane. You cut yourself. You take a knife to your own skin. That's fucked up on more than one level. What the hell?"

"You don't get it, Troy, none of you do. Please, don't-just please, Troy, go back to school. Let it go."

"Jason, we're worried about you," Kelsi whispered, reaching her hand back out to brush Jason's arm.

"You don't even know me, Kelsi. And those two have been dancing around me since kindergarten, they've never cared before."

"Jason, that's not true," Troy whispered, his voice betraying his sadness at Jason's pronouncement. "You know that's not true. You can't actually believe that."

"I don't know what to believe," Jason replied quietly. "I know this is fucked up, man. Hell, I'm fucked up."

"Why, Jason?" Kelsi breathed, running her thumb over the longest of the scars, which Jason's t-shirt, still bunched above his elbow, didn't quite cover. "Why would you say that?"

"You don't-any of you, you have no idea-"

"About what, Jason? No idea about what?"

"My fucking life is a joke, Troy. It always has been."

"Jason, what's wrong with you? Why would you even-"

"You have no fucking clue," Jason hissed, ripping his arm away from Kelsi again, taking a step away from her. "Get the fuck out of here, before I-before he-"

"Before? Before what, Jason? Before your dad gets angry?"

"Out." The single word dripped with venom, making Troy step back from his friend unconsciously.

"Jason-"

"I'll see you in school tomorrow. Go home."

Troy bit his lip, waffling on the spot between staying and confronting Jason, and leaving, getting someone more experienced to help in the situation. The latter won out as Troy caught the scathing look Jason was giving him.

"This isn't over, Jason. This needs to stop. I'm taking this," he held up the razor, making sure Jason saw it, "with me. We're talking about this when you get back to school."

"Whatever. Just get out, Troy. All of you."

"I wish you'd ask for help," Troy whispered, pocketing the bloodied razor. "I wish you'd let us help you."

"Fat fucking chance. I don't need your help, I can manage on my own. I have been since I was four, and-"

Jason trailed off, realizing he'd once again come to close to revealing the secret he'd tried so hard to protect.

"And?" Troy prompted, hopeful that Jason wouldn't shut himself off again. His hopes were dashed seconds later when Jason all but threw them from the room.

"And nothing, Troy. Now leave."

With that Jason slammed his bedroom door in Troy's face, the sound reverberating in the apartment's tiny hallway.

---------

"We have to do something to help him," Kelsi pleaded with Troy and Chad as they walked back into the school building fifteen minutes later. "We can't let this go, you know that."

"Kelsi, we've known him for eleven years. He's always been intense, and withdrawn, but-"

"You can't write this off, Chad! He's cutting himself, he makes himself bleed! That's not something you can attribute to his 'being intense,' I thought he was supposed to be one of your best friends!"

"He is, Kelsi. It's just-Jason's life has been complicated, more than you know. His mother died when he was four, for Christ's sake. I think he's entitled to a little self pity-"

"This isn't self pity! It's self-harm, Chad. There's a difference. Typically, the one doesn't lead to suicidal tendencies."

"He's not suicidal." Troy's quiet voice broke into the bickering between Chad and Kelsi, rendering the two silent for a moment.

"And how would you know?"

"He hasn't killed himself in three years, when he's had more than ample opportunity. You saw his arm, Kelsi, he's obviously been doing this a while."

"We can't let it go on, Troy. You know we can't. Both of you know we can't. This isn't healthy; it's not _right_."

"Who are we supposed to tell?" Chad asked, his voice carrying a note of desperation. "We can't tell anyone, it needs to be someone who'll keep it quiet. Jase-he wouldn't want this spread around."

"We'll tell Ms. Chisolm. The school counselor, you know? She's got to be bound by some kind of code, right?"

"Kelsi, I don't think it's our job to-"

"Chad, will you shut up? It _is _our responsibility. Jason is cutting for a reason, probably something a hell of a lot more serious than a few broken bones. There's something _wrong_ with him, something we can't fix. We need to get him help."

"Troy, you can' honestly think she's right? You're not going to do this are you? I mean, I'm worried as hell about Jase, but this just feels like-it feels like we're invading his privacy, that this isn't our tale to tell-"

"I agree with Kelsi, Chad. We need to tell someone. We need to get Jason the help he deserves."

--------------

"So we can tell you anything, right? And you won't tell anyone else?"

"Depending on the circumstances, yes. As long as I don't need to involve the authorities, you can confide in me anything, and I won't tell anyone."

"Like, not even Principal Matsui? Or the nurse, or his dad, or-"

"Is there someone in particular you're here to talk to me about?"

"Well, um, you see-"

"Yes," Kelsi spoke over Troy, her voice clear and calm where his had been wavering.

"And that person is?"

"Well, you see, Ms.—uh-Ms. Chisolm, our friend-"

"Jason."

"Yeah, Jason, he um, well-he might be-I mean he is, we saw him-"

"He's cutting himself. We caught him yesterday, with the bloody razor and a bandage on his arm."

Ms. Chisolm sat back in her chair, looking at the two teenagers sitting opposite her across the desk.

"Did he admit to it?"

"He did," Kelsi acknowledged. "Said he's been doing it for three years."

"Does your friend have a last name?"

"Look, I was thinking, I mean-could we just bring him to see you? I mean, if we could get him here, it would be-he wouldn't come if you sent for him, he's-"

"Bring him by tomorrow at noon, I have a free appointment. Either of you is welcome to accompany him, if you think it would make him more comfortable."

"Thanks a lot," Troy replied enthusiastically, shaking the counselor's hand as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. It was a small step, and he knew it would take more to get Jason to heal, but it was a step, at least.

-----

"He's not gonna go for this," Chad warned as soon as Troy and Kelsi left the counselor's office. "You know he's not gonna go for this."

"We have to make him."

"Troy, it won't be that simple, he-"

"I'll do it."

"Kelsi? But he barely knows you-"

"And that's why he'll trust me. I can feel it, there's just something-I can't explain it, okay? Just let me talk to him alone, and I think I can get him to see the light."

"I don't know about this, Kelsi." Troy bit his lip, looking at the petite brunette appraisingly. "I feel like, I mean-we've known him longer-"

"And no offense, Troy, but it's taken you eleven years to notice something was wrong with him."

"That's not fair!" Chad cried, an angry flush rising in his cheeks. "We've suspected something for a while, but I mean-we can't just go around confronting him about something this serious, he would've-"

"I'm not saying it's your fault, Chad. Honestly, I'm not, but the fact is he's kept this from you for at least three years. He's got a fresh start with me, it's less-less intimidating. I think that will help him see sense."

-----------

"How's the arm?"

Jason dropped the notebook balanced on his casted arm in surprise as Kelsi spoke at his shoulder.

"Holy shit, Kelsi. You came out of nowhere."

"I tend to do that," she smiled, bending down to pick up the dropped book. "Listen, Jason, I'm sorry about yesterday. I know-I know it must've been a shock, seeing us at your house. We didn't mean to-to confront you, to make you upset. It's just-Troy and Chad, they're worried sick about you, you know? And I am too."

"I appreciate that, Kelsi, I really do. But you can't-I don't want you to. It's bad enough that you saw what you did, you'd run away in a heartbeat if-"

"If what, Jason? If I saw what?" Kelsi was looking imploringly into Jason's eyes, gently prompting him to continue.

"Nothing. It's-it's nothing, Kelsi. God, how do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"I have no control over what I say when I'm with you. It's insane. I just start talking and-"

"And?"

"I don't know, Kelsi. It's weird. It's like-it's almost like I've known you my whole life, but I've only known you a few days."

Kelsi smiled shyly, ducking her head as she handed Jason back his notebook.

"That's really sweet of you, Jason."

"It's-it's sweet of you to worry about me," Jason returned, filing the notebook inside his locker. "But I wish you wouldn't."

"Then meet me here at lunch. We can talk, and you can tell me more about you. It's easier not to worry when you know the whole truth."

Jason hesitated, desperately trying to find the catch in the situation.

"I-okay. Yeah, that-that sounds good. See you at noon?"

"See you at noon."

Three hours later, Kelsi was waiting again by Jason's locker, alternating between shoving her hands in her pockets and wringing them anxiously in front of her. She didn't think that Jason suspected anything, but she couldn't be sure.

"Hey, Kelsi. How was your morning?"

"Oh, you know, just-school. Kinda boring. I skipped Biology to work on songs for the musical."

"Is that-is that a good idea?" Jason asked, looking at Kelsi with a mixture of concern and amusement.

"We had a sub. Not a big deal." She flashed him a smile, her hands finding their way back into her pockets.

"So you ready to head to lunch?"

"Actually, Jason, I-I was wondering if maybe we could take a walk? Just-just talk, you know?"

"Uh-" Jason contemplated the offer, chewing his lip thoughtfully. "Yeah, okay. I'm not real hungry anyway, the painkillers kinda make me feel awful." He gestured to his broken arm for clarification.

"Alright. So, uh, how was your morning?"

"Not too bad. Didn't fall asleep in any of my classes, so that's a big plus." Jason flashed her a wide smile, letting her know he was kidding.

"I wonder how you ever learn anything, you're always asleep," Kelsi joked back, smiling broadly. "Hey, let's walk down this hallway, we can just hang out in the lobby."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, that sounds good. Lead the way."

Kelsi began to fidget with a piece of paper in her pocket as they neared their destination, trading small talk and niceties the entire way.

"So how many brothers and sisters do you have?"

"Me? Only child," Kelsi replied, slowing her steps as they neared Ms. Chisolm's office. "You?"

"My dad never remarried after-I mean, I'm sure Troy and Chad told you about my mom, yeah? Well, it's been—it's been me and my dad since then. What's up? Why are we-"

Jason trailed off, his face darkening as he saw where they'd come to a stop.

"You've got to be kidding me," he hissed, stepping away from Kelsi. "This whole thing was a set up, wasn't it? You and Troy and Chad, you planned this. I can't-I _trusted_ you, Kelsi, how could-"

"Jason, wait, just hear me out. Yes, we went to Ms. Chisolm yesterday, but only because-I mean, Jason, you _need_ help. You can't deal with this alone. It isn't healthy, you need someone to help you figure out why you're-"

"I know why I cut, Kelsi," Jason hissed, his voice dangerously low. "And I'm never going to tell you, that's for sure. I can't-fuck, I can't believe I trusted you-" Jason cut himself off, turning abruptly on his heel and running.

"Jason!" Kelsi cried after him, taking off as soon as she realized he had gone. "Jason, wait! Come back, we can talk about this, we can-"

She trailed off, realizing he was out of earshot. Continuing in the direction he'd gone, she just saw the front door close. Exiting the school into the parking lot, she started scanning the lot for Jason, who was nowhere to be seen. A soft sob to her right drew her attention, and she turned slowly, trying to locate it's source.

"Jason," she whispered, walking slowly to the teen. Jason was sitting beneath a tree, knees held to his chest as he curled in on himself, crying softly.

"Go away," Jason sobbed, burying his face further into his knees, shutting himself off from any contact.

"Jason, you can't do this to yourself," Kelsi said in a hushed voice, resting a hand on Jason's shoulder. "You need-you need to talk to someone. If not Ms. Chisolm, then talk to me, Jason. I'm willing to listen."

"You don't want to hear about my life," Jason replied, looking up from his knees. "You-the things I've seen would scare you, Kelsi."

"Try me, Jason. I'm willing to listen. I'm not going to judge you."

"I can't, Kelsi. I-I really can't. It's too hard."

"Then just cry, Jason. Anything that will help."

"I don't deserve your pity," Jason whispered, turning his head to look Kelsi in the eyes. "I don't deserve this from you."

"Jason, why don't you think you deserve to be cared about? You deserve to be loved, Jason. You of all people deserve to know what it feels like to be loved."

"Kelsi-"

The broken whisper was all Kelsi needed to push her into action. She reached forward, pulling Jason into her arms.

"I feel so connected to you, Jason, I can't explain it. Even if you don't believe that I can help you, I'm going to try."

Jason resisted the hug, keeping his arms firmly wrapped around his legs.

"Please, Kelsi, you'll only-you'll only make this harder. I can't let anyone in this close, I can't-I can't do that to you."

"It doesn't seem like you have a choice, Jason."

"Kelsi, please-"

"Jason, listen to me. I care about you. In these past few days, I feel like I've only caught a glimpse of the amazing person you are, and I want to get to know everything about you. I need you to be here, to stay alive. I need-Jason, I need you to stop cutting."

"Kelsi-"

"Please, Jason, promise. If not for me, then for Troy, for Chad. This is killing them, because they blame themselves-"

"Okay," Jason agreed quietly, so quietly that Kelsi almost missed his response. "I-I promise."

"Jason, that's all I can ask for. And please, if you want to talk, I'm here to listen. I want to listen."

"Kelsi, I've already said too much. I can't let you in, I can't-"

"Jason, I'm not giving you the choice."

"God, Kelsi, don't you understand? My life is a living hell. I can't let you into that, I can't let you-I can't let it corrupt you."

"Jason, that could never happen. Jesus, Jason, I haven't got a clue what you've been through, but I can tell it's hurt you. I want to help you, I really do. I really care about you."

Jason was too overcome to answer, his only reply the uncurling of his arms from his knees to return Kelsi's hug. He clung to her as though she were a life preserver in a stormy sea, burying his face in her shoulder as his tears fell in earnest.

"I care about you," Kelsi repeated, holding Jason to her. "I hope you realize that you aren't alone."

-------------

A/N: Kinda sappy. I almost put the first kiss here, but I felt it was a bit too cliché.

So they've confronted Jason, he's freaked out, he's refused help…he's promised Kelsi he'll stop? He's also come close to letting the cat out of the bag….seems like Kelsi and Troy will put two and two together soon. =D

Until we meet again,

Jetsfanforlyfe


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue. Characters belong to Disney.

A/N: I have no excuses. Yes, my laptop died, and yes I lost everything I'd written previously…but I just couldn't find motivation. A lot of shit (excuse my language…) has been going down in my non-fic life, and I just…eh. Not the place. =(

So anyway, here is chapter 4.

This takes place in November of their sophomore year, aka two months have passed since the previous chapter. Jason's arm has healed, and he's stopped cutting…for now. Andrew, however, hasn't laid off him…and Jason STILL hasn't gotten up the courage to tell anyone.

Same warnings as before.

Enjoy!

-------------

"Fuck you, Dad!"

Jason slammed the door to his room, dust falling from the ceiling as the door rattled its frame. Once inside, he sunk to the floor, clutching his left knee and biting his lip in pain. Andrew had tripped him on his way into the bathroom to get ready for school, his foot planting and his knee going the opposite direction as his body. Consequently, he could already feel the joint swelling beneath his flannel pajama pants, an alarming amount of heat and pain radiating from the point.

Gingerly rolling up his pant leg, he took stock of the damage. His knee was already twice its normal size, and a wonderful bruise had begun to blossom under the skin, but other than that it appeared fine. He'd have to get it checked out at some point, but for the time being he'd leave it as it was, being that he was already going to be late for homeroom.

Using the wall for support, Jason lifted himself into a standing position, testing his knee by gingerly putting weight onto it. It held, meaning he hopefully hadn't damaged it too badly, even though it was extraordinarily painful to bear weight. Favoring his right leg, Jason limped to his dresser. Pulling out a pair of sweatpants, he held them up for a moment before deciding against the move. It would be too difficult to change, and so he decided to keep the pajama pants on, opting however for a fresh shirt. Pulling a worn sweatshirt over his head, Jason hobbled to his desk, lifting his backpack from the chair and slinging it over his shoulder.

--------

The school day was particularly trying, as Jason had to navigate the crowded hallways with extra care, to avoid further injuring his knee. When the final bell finally signaled the end of classes, Jason gratefully limped to his locker, bracing himself against the metal door, taking the weight off his left leg. He stayed like that for several moments, gathering the strength to get his books together to head to basketball practice. He was so absorbed in that task that he didn't notice Kelsi walking up behind, until her hand on his shoulder sent him jumping, then painfully crashing to the floor.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered, clutching his leg as he fell into an ungraceful heap.

"Oh my, God, Jason!" Kelsi cried, clasping her hand over her mouth. "I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I can't believe I did that, what was I thinking, sneaking up on you-"

"It's fine, Kels. Honestly. Could you just-could you help me up? I threw my knee out in basketball yesterday, it's been giving me some trouble."

"Are you sure? I mean, God, Jason, I could've killed you-"

"It really wasn't that serious, Kelsi. Stop exaggerating," Jason replied, smirking at the look of panic on Kelsi's face. "But really, I gotta get to practice. So uh-a little help?"

"Oh, right, yeah," Kelsi stammered, reaching out a hand to help Jason stand. "Jason, I'm-"

"Sorry? I heard. Hey, I get out of practice at 5. Want to grab something to eat, maybe work on Darbus' English vocab?"

"Uh, yeah. That sounds good. Are you sure you can go to practice?"

"I'm fine, Kels. It's a sprain. Nothing more. I'm gonna have coach look at it after practice."

"If you're positive-"

"I am. I've gotta run. See you at 5?"

"See you," Kelsi agreed, watching Jason limp away down the hall. Once again, Jason had her at a loss for words.

* * *

"Looks like a severe strain, maybe even a tear. You said you did this at practice yesterday?"

"Uh-yeah. My foot planted, and my knee just kinda went the wrong way."

"Well, Jason, I gotta say, you did a good job on it. I want to take you over to the ER, get some X-rays and tests done so we can see how bad this really is."

"No! I mean, come on, Tim, it's not that bad. I can deal with it."

Tim McMurry, the East High staff athletic trainer, shook his head.

"Jason, your knee is swollen to twice normal size. You can barely put weight on it. This needs to get looked at."

"I just-I can't go to the hospital, okay? We don't have insurance."

"Let's worry about that later, Jason. What matters now is keeping you healthy, making sure you're not going to do permanent damage."

"I can handle whatever happens, just-just please, Tim, no hospital."

"Jason, you _need_ to see a doctor. There isn't a question involved. If you don't come with me now, I'm going to get Coach Bolton involved."

"Alright," Jason conceded. "But I'm only letting them check my knee, okay? That's it. Anything else, and I'm gone in a second."

Tim paused at the odd nature of the question, but decided to let it go. If it meant that Jason would see a doctor, he'd take whatever conditions the teenager laid down.

"I'll take you myself. My car's just outside, I'll bring it around to the gym. Be ready in five minutes."

Jason nodded, watching the trainer walk through the door before slamming his fist angrily on the training room table. He'd only gone to see Tim because Coach had noticed him limping during practice, and demanded he'd get checked out. Now, there was going to be a whole lot more trouble than Jason was willing to deal with. Remembering his date with Kelsi, he pulled out his cell, quickly flipping through his contacts to her number.

"Jason! I thought you were in practice?"

"Listen, Kelsi, the trainer wants to take me to the hospital to get my knee looked at, so I'm gonna have to take a rain check on tonight."

"Oh my, God, Jason, is this because I knocked you over? I knew I hurt you-"

"Kelsi, this isn't your fault. Honsetly. You had nothing to do with it."

"Do you-I mean, do you maybe want-I could-do you want company at the hospital? I mean-who knows how long it'll take, right?"

"Kelsi, you don't have to come. I know you're busy with the musical and all."

"No, Jason, I want to. You should have someone there with you. I can drive you there. I'll meet you outside the gym in five minutes."

"Kelsi-"

"It's settled, Jason. I'm going to take you."

Hanging up with Kelsi, Jason limped out to the gym parking lot, Tim already waiting in his car by the curb.

"Listen, Tim, I actually-I've got someone else who can drive me."

"Jason-"

"No, seriously, she's gonna be here in like, two minutes. I swear to you, Tim, I'm going to get checked out."

As Jason finished his plea, Kelsi pulled up behind Tim, getting out to help Jason into the passenger seat.

"I told you," Jason smirked, laughing at Tim's face.

"I promise I'll take care of him. You'll have him back as good as new."

* * *

Three hours later, Jason and Kelsi sat in the waiting room of Albuquerque General, waiting to be seen be a doctor. Jason had his leg stretched awkwardly in front of him.

"I really wish they'd see you already. This is getting crazy."

"I knew you shouldn't have come, Kelsi."

"Jason, for the millionth time, it's fine. I like spending time with you."

"Really?"

"Yes, Jason, really. You're a really sweet guy, and I really-" Kelsi trailed off, blushing.

"You really?"

"I really like you, Jason. As-as more than a friend. We've been hanging out for a few months now, and I just-I mean, it was kinda random, it was like one day I just woke up and it was there and-"

Jason leaned forward, his face centimeters from Kelsi's.

"I like you too. You don't have to rationalize it."

"Good, because I mean, wow, that was going to be embarrassing if-"

Jason silenced her with a gentle kiss, not lasting more than four seconds but enough to send Kelsi reeling. They broke apart, Jason smiling broadly at Kelsi's expression.

"Wow. I mean, just-wow."

"Kelsi, I've-I've wanted to ask you out for awhile now. It's just, with everything that's been going on, it's been tough, but-"

"Now it's my turn to shut you up," Kelsi countered, smiling playfully before leaning in to return Jason's kiss. Their moment was broken apart by the arrival of a doctor.

"Jason Cross?"

The teenager in question quickly untangled himself from Kelsi, standing with her help.

"That's me," he replied, limping over to the doctor.

"I'm Dr. Kenneth Andrews, I'll be taking care of you today," the young doctor introduced himself, looking over Jason critically. "Do you need a wheelchair, or can you make it back? We're gonna be in curtain 3."

"No, I got it," Jason assured, leaning heavily on Kelsi as they made their way back to the designated exam area. The doctor motioned for Jason to sit on the gurney as he flipped through Jason's chart.

"What brings you here today, Jason?"

"I-fell. My foot planted, and my knee went the wrong way. It's pretty banged up."

"Let's take a look," Dr. Andrews replied, gently rolling up Jason's pants leg. He let out a whistle when he saw the swollen state of Jason's knee. "How long has it been like this?"

"Well-" Jason started to lie, but the look in the doctor's eye stopped him short. "It happened this morning."

"Jason?" Kelsi questioned, looking critically at him. "I thought you said-"

"I tripped over a cord on the floor. I didn't want you to think I was a klutz. Pretty stupid, huh?" Jason offered, smiling meekly at Kelsi, hoping she'd take his lie at face value. She seemed to accept his explanation for the time being, fading back toward wall as the doctor began to palpate Jason's knee.

"Any pain when you walk? Bear weight?"

"Well-yeah. It kinda hurts like a son of a bitch. I can walk, but it's not exactly easy."

"Did you feel a pop when you fell? Hear a pop?"

As the doctor spoke he rolled up Jason's right pant leg, comparing the left knee to the right.

"Uh, yeah. It kinda felt like something slid out of place, but it happened really fast. I don't really know."

The doctor nodded, standing up and motioning for Jason to pull his right pant leg down. He picked up the medical chart hanging on the end of the bed, jotting a few notes down.

"Well, it looks like you may have had a dislocation that re-located on its own. There's no bone displacement at the moment, but the swelling is rather worrisome. I'm going to send you for some X-rays so we can take a look, see what else is going on in there. With most dislocations, there tends to be further injury to the blood vessels and tissues surrounding the joint, if not to the other bones in the leg. The pulse in your foot isn't compromised, so there doesn't appear to be vessel or artery damage but we want to be on the safe side. At the moment it looks like you've got a simple dislocation with some possible ligament damage as a secondary result. Once the X-rays come back in, I'll be back to discuss further treatment and care."

Putting down Jason's chart, Dr. Andrews stood straight, turning to one of the nurses passing behind him.

"Sherry, take Jason here down to radiology. I want a complete set of films on his left knee. Take him down in a wheelchair, even if he objects." Turning back to his patient, he addressed Jason directly, cutting off the protest coming from the teen. "I don't want you putting unnecessary weight on that knee. Don't do anything unless Sherry or the radiologist tells you to, got it? I expect your girlfriend to keep a careful eye on you."

He smiled at Kelsi before excusing himself from the area, leaving Sherry behind to cart Jason to get the x-rays.

"He called me your girlfriend!" Kelsi mouthed, smiling as Sherry helped Jason into the wheelchair, and the three set off for the bank of elevators.

* * *

"So you dislocated it? But you tore your ACL?" Troy asked the next day, watching as Jason eased himself into his desk in homeroom the next day, passing his crutches off to Kelsi, who leaned them against the wall behind his desk. Jason's left knee was immobilized, held awkwardly in front of him as he leaned back in his chair.

"The doc said my knee went out and back in on its own, but I overtaxed my ACL, yeah. He said it was only a miniscule tear, should heal on its own with rest and physical therapy."

"What time did you even get home?"

"Well, the doc finished patching me up at like, 2:30, so we weren't home until nearly four." Jason kept to himself that Andrew had been mercifully passed out on the couch when Kelsi had helped him maneuver awkwardly up the stairs and into his room. Andrew had still been unconscious three hours later when Jason had begun the torturously slow process of walking down the stairs to meet Kelsi, as the condition of his knee prevented him from driving himself to school.

"Your dad take you?" The obvious doubt in Troy's voice made Jason uneasy, but he brushed it away for the time being.

"Uh, no, actually-Kelsi did. Last night I-I mean we-"

"You asked her out?" Jason nodded in response, drawing a smile from Troy.

"Finally, man! We've been wondering when it was going to happen."

"Were we that obvious?"

"Uh, yeah. You were." Troy smiled, punching Jason lightly in the shoulder. "Seriously, man, I'm happy for you. Maybe you'll actually smile every once in a while."

"Yeah, maybe," Jason agreed, keeping to himself the doubts he harbored. He knew Kelsi made him happy-how long it would last, or how long he had before Andrew ruined the best thing that had happened to him, Jason didn't know.

-------------------

A/N: So there it is. Finally. Chapter 4.

I've written most of the next three, so hopefully they'll come more quickly.

Peace,

Jetsfanforlyfe


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.

A/N: So I promised myself I'd finish this story before I posted. I lied. My computer keeps failing and dying, and I was in New Orleans doing service for the summer with limited internet access. But I will update when I can. I still love this story. :)

Enjoy!

* * *

"_You have five new voice messages. First voice message."_

"Hey Jase, it's Kelsi. Just wondering what you're up to. Call me back."

"_Message erased. Next voice message."_

"Hey Jase. Kelsi again. You never called me back. What're you doing for Christmas Eve? My parents want you to come over. Anyway, call me when you get this. Bye."

_"Message erased. Next voice message."_

"Jase, it's me. Again. Seriously, pick up. Christmas is two days away. Call me."

"_Message erased. Next voice message._"

"Jason, this isn't funny. Christmas is tomorrow. What the hell is wrong with you? Call me back."

"_Message erased. Next voice message."_

"We need to talk. Call me back."

"_Message erased. End of new messages."_

Jason snapped his cell phone shut, tossing it onto his bed as he stretched his injured knee in front of him. It had been nearly a month since he and Kelsi had gone official at the hospital, and they were a week into winter break. He wasn't purposefully avoiding her-he was just laying low, trying to keep off Andrew's radar. The holidays were always the worst, memories of Carrie surfacing at the worst times. So far, Jason had been lucky. He'd spent Christmas icing his knee, and the week after shut up in his room, working on homework and reading.

Now, New Year's Eve, he was again alone, with twelve missed calls and forty-two unanswered text messages from his friends and Kelsi, all trying to get a hold of him. He knew he should call one of them back, let them know he was alright, but he didn't want questions about where he'd been or what he'd been doing. They still didn't know about his dad, and they didn't know he hadn't completely kept his promise about not cutting-several fresh slices littered his upper arms, products of the stressful exam week leading up to the break.

Sighing, Jason pushed himself up using one of his crutches, grabbing the other before limping to the kitchen to fix himself something to eat for dinner. Andrew was out, undoubtedly drinking in the new year at a bar somewhere, belligerently shouting at anyone who crossed his path. Jason hope he could eat, watch the ball drop, and be in bed all before Andrew made it home.

He had just eased down on the couch, a grilled cheese sandwich and glass of milk in front of him, ABC playing _Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve_ on the television, when the door to the apartment crashed open. Andrew stumbled in, reeking of alcohol, slamming the door behind him. His eyes alighted on Jason, and flew to the television.

"What the fuck are you doing?

"Dad?"

"I asked what the fuck you were doing."

"I-I thought you-I mean-"

"Get your ass off my couch, you lazy son of a bitch."

"Dad, I'm just-"

Jason never got a chance to tell his father exactly what he was, as Andrew grabbed him by the wrist and yanked, hard. Jason's injured knee buckled, and he crumpled to the floor, supported only by Andrew's vice-like grip around his wrist.

"Dad, please, it's New Year's Eve, please-"

"Shut the fuck up, Jason. For fuck's sake, why don't you ever shut up?"

Andrew was in rare form today. The alcohol was rolling off of him in waves, making Jason nauseous as Andrew got in his face, yelling. His knee was already throbbing with pain, in addition to the pain blossoming in his wrist.

"Please-"

"Shut up, for Christ's sake. Shut up."

Each word was punctured with a blow, leaving Jason curled in on himself on the floor, cowering in pain and fear. But Andrew wasn't done. The last conscious thought Jason had was that there was no way he was letting the new year begin the way previous years had gone.

* * *

"Hurry up, Jack, they're about to drop the ball!"

"I'm getting the champagne, Luce, hang on!"

"Dad, let's go! You're missing it!"

"Alright, alright," Jack Bolton walked into his living room, carrying three glasses of champagne precariously, handing one each to his son and wife. They were well into their New Year's tradition of family dinner then champagne to ring in the new year. The Bolton family gathered as the countdown began on the television.

"Here we go! Ten…nine…"

_Ding._

"Was that the bell?" Lucille Bolton looked toward the front door, a frown on her face. "Who would be calling at this time on New Year's Eve?"

_Ding. Ding._

"Six…five…"

"I got it, Dad, sit down."

"Three…two…"

Troy opened the door, ready to greet whoever stood on the other side with a rousing cheer of Auld Lang Syne.

"Happy New Year!"

"Jason?"

Troy's question was drowned out by the noise emanating from around the neighborhood as everyone celebrated the arrival of January 1. Troy's attention was glued on his friend, however. Jason was leaning heavily against the doorframe, barely supported by his crutches. Blood streamed steadily down his face from a gash on his temple, and bruises were blossoming all over his visible skin. He was wrapped in a worn flannel shirt, his pants ripped nearly to shreds.

Troy leaped forward, slinging one of Jason's arms around his shoulders just as the other teen started to slump forward.

"Holy shit. Dad! Dad, hurry up! Shit, shit, shit. DAD!"

"Troy, what in God's name are-oh, my God."

Jack ran to his son, taking Jason's other arm carefully over his own shoulders.

"Get him to the couch, Troy. Luce! Call 911, and get his crutches in here. Hurry!"

Jack and Troy maneuvered Jason to the couch, setting him down gently. Troy immediately sat next to his friend, while Jack knelt in front of him, assessing the damage. Lucy ran back into the living room, the cordless phone glued to her ear as she relayed what she knew to the operator.

"Ambulance is on the way, Jack. Oh, my God. What happened to him?"

Jack gently took Jason's chin in his hand.

"Jason, bud, can you tell me who hurt you? Can you tell me what happened?"

Jason remained silent, his eyes glazed over and staring blankly ahead.

"Did he walk here?"

"Must've. He's freezing. Get me a blanket, Luce, and the first aid kit. How long did they say?"

"Ten minutes. I'll be right back."

"Dad, is he okay?"

"I don't know, Troy. He's in shock. He needs to get to a hospital."

Jack turned back to Jason, gently looking the teen over for injuries. He gasped as the neck of Jason's shirt shifted.

"Oh my God," he whispered, reaching out tentatively to brush his fingers against the tender flesh of Jason's neck. He heard a gasp behind him, followed by the sounds of Troy running to the bathroom, throwing up into the toilet.

Jason's neck was covered in bruises, most finger shaped and deep purple, which seemed to Jack to be recent.

"Oh, Jason. What happened to you?"

"Oh, my God, Jack. Did someone choke him?"

"I don't know, Luce. It looks like it. Did you grab a blanket?"

She handed him the blankets, helping him tuck them around Jason's shoulders, trying to stave off the shock that seemed to have already taken hold.

"I'll stay here with him. Go check on Troy."

"Jack, the ambulance is here."

"Go let them in, then go make sure Troy is okay. Please, Luce."

She nodded, walking quickly to the front door, allowing the paramedics access to Jason's now shivering form. Two EMTs, both in their mid twenties, entered the room, rolling a gurney between them, on which was set a backboard and hard collar, in addition to their medical bag. They crossed quickly to Jack and Jason, the one whose name tag read Nate kneeling in front of Jason while his partner, Chris, started pulling supplies from their bag.

"What happened here?"

"He showed up about midnight," Jack began, shifting so Nate could reach to take Jason's pulse. "He must've walked here. Our son, Troy, answered the door, and he was leaning against his crutches, he was pale and shaky. We brought him to the couch."

"He say what happened?"

"Hasn't spoken a word since he got here. Is he okay?"

"Hard to say. We're gonna get him to the ER, let the docs take a look at him, see what's going on."

"His BP is elevated, 160/100," Chris muttered to Nate, removing the blood pressure cuff he'd used to measure Jason's pressure. "You want an IV?"

"Yeah, let's run in saline, wide open, get him hydrated and see if we can stave off shock," Nate instructed, reaching behind him for a pair of scissors as he began to cut off Jason's shirt. "Holy shit."

Chris whistled as he knelt next to Nate and took Jason's arm to set up an IV.

"Kid was strangled."

"Looks like it. Explains why his breathing's so shallow. Get me the collar after you start that IV."

"Might be a problem. Look at his arm."

"Holy shit. Kid's a cutter, too, huh? Can you find a vein?"

"Not on this arm. He's sliced through them all. Let me see his right."

Jack stood back with Troy and Lucille as he watched the two medics attempt to find a vein on Jason's arm. The crisscrossing white scars that littered both arms alarmed him, but he could tell from the look on Troy's face that his son was not surprised.

"You knew he was cutting," Jack asked incredulously, looking at his son. "You knew and you never told anyone?"

"He promised he'd stop, honestly. I didn't know-I didn't know he was still doing it."

Jack's reply was cut off by Chris handing him a pile of forms.

"What's the kid's name?"

"Jason Cross. He's 16."

"Do you know if he has any allergies? Past medical history?"

"He's-he's been hurt a lot, but I don't—I don't know."

"Can you get us a contact for his parents?"

"His mom's dead," Jack whispered, looking sadly at Jason. "I can get you his dad's-"

At the mention of his father, Jason bucked against Nate, who was gently looking him over for injuries.

"Whoa! Hold on, kid, calm down. What's going on?"

Startling noises screeched from Jason's writhing form, as he seemed unable to speak, resorting only to crying out.

"Jason, buddy, calm down. No one's going to hurt you," Nate soothed, placing his hand on Jason's shoulder. "You're safe with us." He caught Chris's eye, understanding passing between them.

"Jason, do you not want us to call your father?"

A shake of his head, accompanied by a low pitched whine.

"Jason, is your father the one who did this to you?" Nate asked carefully, still keeping his hand reassuringly on Jason's shoulder.

A nod.

A collective gasp went around the room, each of the Bolton's trying to stem the tears that started to fall.

"You're safe, Jason. He's not going to hurt you again, I promise you. Chris and I are going to help you out, okay? You can trust us. You can trust the Bolton's. We're here to help you."

Jason nodded again, tears streaming down his face.

"You're going to be okay, Jason. Can you tell me what happened?"

Jason trailed off, his breath catching as he started to wheeze. He looked at Nate in a panic, his hands flying to his throat when he found he couldn't speak.

"Slow, deep breaths, Jason. That's it. Is it okay if I take a look at your neck?"

Jason nodded slightly, allowing Nate to reach toward his neck. He flinched when Nate's hands made contact, but he allowed the medic to examine the damage.

"Jason, were you strangled or choked? You can just nod if you need to." At the affirmative from his patient, Nate reached forward to gently brace Jason's neck. Turning his head, he addressed his partner. "Chris, grab that collar. Better safe than sorry. His trachea or larynx could be compromised, that could be why he can't speak. You get that IV in yet?"

Without waiting for Chris' reply, Nate started to fix the collar around Jason's neck, carefully stabilizing it while making sure he moved Jason as little as possible.

"Yeah, finally. You wanna get him on the backboard?"

"Absolutely. He's in bad shape, let's take all the precautions we can."

Nate turned to the Bolton's, letting Chris finish stabilizing Jason.

"We're gonna take Jason to the ER, get him checked out. I'm worried that he can't speak-that, coupled with the trauma to his throat and neck, could be a bad sign. The ER doc will know more, though. One of you can ride along."

"I'll go," Jack volunteered, grabbing his car keys and handing them to Lucille. "Meet us at the ER, Luce. I'll keep you updated."

Jack followed the gurney to the ambulance, climbing in beside it as the medics loaded Jason into the rig. They pulled away with a flurry of sirens and lights, leaving Lucille and Troy standing in front of their house, wondering what was happening.

* * *

Dr. Luke Thelen sighed as he placed another finished chart in the discharge rack, running his hands through his hair. As the on-call resident for the ER, he of course got stuck working the New Year's Eve shift-one of the worst a doctor could possibly work. He'd spent the whole night dealing with drunks, idiots, and people who couldn't handle the stress of New Year's. He started to head toward the lounge to grab a quick nap, when he was cut off by an arriving ambulance crew, pushing their gurney into the ER.

"What've you got?"

"Jason Cross, 16. Showed up at his friend's house beat to shit. He was unresponsive for a while, but now can only respond non-verbally. Shows signs of severe beating, internal injuries and bleeding, contusions and lacerations, possibly a concussion, and it appears he was strangled. Previous history we could find out includes ACL tear secondary to a dislocation about a month ago, multiple concussions, broken ribs, broken bones, and surgeries. BP is holding steady at 100/60, pulse is 120. Resps are extremely shallow, so we put him on O2 by mask to even it out. One large bore IV hung in the field, saline wide open, but we had a lot of trouble getting a vein. He's got multiple healing and healed scars on both arms, but the left is worse. Plenty of new cuts right through the veins."

"You find out how this happened?"

"Yeah, kid freaked out when we mentioned calling his father. He claimed his father as the attacker."

"His father did this to him? Holy shit."

Luke's night had gone from bad to worse. Child abuse cases were always his least favorite to deal with, and this one seemed particularly bad. The young teenager on the gurney was barely conscious, his face a mess of blood and bruises, his chest barely rising and falling with each breath.

"Any family to contact?"

"Mom's dead. His friend's dad is in chairs, the friend and wife are on the way."

"Alright let's get him into Trauma 1! On my count…1…2…3!"

They shifted Jason onto the ER bed, and immediately nurses and techs began to buzz around him, setting up tests and tubing, waiting for instructions from Luke.

"Let's get a CBC and a trauma panel, head, neck and chest films, type and cross for 3 and stand by with O-neg. Let's get a look at his left knee, too. And a head CT."

"His neck is swollen, probably compromising his trachea, Luke."

"Dammit. Stand by with an intubation tray, but I don't want to tube him if we can avoid it." Luke placed himself in Jason's line of sight, making sure the teen could focus on him.

"Jason, buddy, look at me. My name is Luke, and I'm trying to help you out, okay? Can you speak?"

Jason struggled, his back arching as tears started streaming down his face.

"It's okay, buddy. You're throat is pretty swollen, that's probably why you can't speak right now. You can blink once to say yes, though, and twice for no. Are you having trouble breathing?"

Jason blinked once, panic setting in on his face. Luke placed a hand on his shoulder, comforting him.

"It's alright, buddy. We're gonna see what we can do to help you out, okay? I don't want to intubate you if we can avoid it, so let's work together to stay calm, alright? Try to take slow, easy breaths. Don't strain yourself."

Jason blinked once to let Luke know he'd understood, and began to allow his eyes to dart around the room, trying to take in all the action.

"Put a rush on the C-spine, and let's get 5 of morphine on board," Luke called out, grabbing the lab readout a nurse handed him. "His counts are low, let's get portable ultrasound in here to see if he's bleeding somewhere internally."

Luke turned back to Jason.

"Jason, I'm going to check out your belly, okay, to see if there's any damage. You can blink once to tell me if I'm hurting you, okay?"

At the affirmative from his patient, Luke began to gently press on Jason's abdomen. He reached the right side when Jason started shrinking away, blinking rapidly and trying to cry out.

"Guarding and tenderness in the upper right quadrant. We could be looking at a liver lac. Let's check his crit again, see if he's gonna need to go up."

"His x-rays came back, Luke. You want 'em on the board?"

"Yeah, put up the head and neck films first." Luke placed himself back in Jason's line of sight. "Jason, I'm gonna take a quick look at your x-rays, and see what's going on, okay? Stay calm, and remember to keep breathing. Slowly."

Luke crossed to the light board, shaking his head when he saw Jason's x-rays.

"There's a hairline skull fracture, right here. Jesus Christ. His neck vertebrae weren't compromised, thank God, and his spinal column looks intact. His ribs are shot to hell, most of them cracked or broken. How're his knee films looking?"

"He exacerbated a tear, looks a lot worse than the films we have here on file."

"Shit, okay. Let's page ortho and neurology, get them down here STAT. We can take him off the backboard, but I want his neck collared for the near future. It looks like we're only dealing with soft tissue injuries there, but it's still a severe case of strangulation. I want to take no chances. Page ENT and see if they can get someone down here."

"What about his liver and the head CT?"

"We'll send him up once we stabilize him, right now that's our priority. We know we're dealing with a liver injury and a head injury, severity doesn't matter right now." Luke crossed back to Jason on the gurney, pulling a chair beside his patient.

"Jason, bud, here's the deal. You've got a pretty nasty concussion and a skull fracture, both of which it looks like you've had before. Your liver is possibly lacerated, but that appears to be the only internal injury you've suffered. We're keeping an eye on the bleeding and we'll see if you're going to need surgery, but at the moment I think we're okay. Are you keeping up with me?"

At an affirmative blink from Jason, Luke continued.

"You increased the tear in your knee, and we've got orthopedics coming down to take a look at the damage. The most worrying injuries, though, are to your neck. We're going to keep you in the collar until we can see what's going on in there, and your breathing is starting to worry me. Is it getting harder to breathe?"

Jason blinked once, a single tear escaping from beneath his lashes.

"Hey, it's okay buddy. You've been through a lot. But you're safe now. I promise you that. No one is going to hurt you while you're here."

"Dr. Thelen, his friend in chairs is asking about him."

"Alright, Shelley, I'll be out in a sec. Jason, I'm gonna go talk to Troy and his parents, okay? Remember to stay calm, and I'll be right back. Katie is going to take care of you, okay?"

Luke brought the nurse to Jason's side, making sure she remained in his line of sight.

"Keep an eye on him, Katie, I'll be in chairs for ten at the most."

Luke had barely made it out the door when the monitors behind him began to shriek, followed by Katie's voice urgently calling Jason's name.

"What the hell?"

"He just went out, his SATS dropped and I don't think he's breathing."

"Holy fuck. Call a code blue, get me an intubation tray and an 8-0 tube, I gotta get him breathing again."

After several unsuccessful attempts to pass the tube into Jason's throat, Luke pulled back.

"Shit. Get me a smaller tube, his cords are closing."

Two attempts later Luke was forced to pull back again.

"God damnit. I can't tube him, start bagging him and page surgery down here now."

"You wanna crike him?"

"It's not gonna be enough. He's gonna need a trach, his trachea is completely shutting off. I can't see the cords past the swelling."

"Benson's outside, I can get him-"

"Now, Marcus, he needs a trach now! Let's go!"

The intern who had started to speak ran out to the hallway, returning with a well-built African-American surgeon, Cyril Benson, who was pulling on gloves and a gown even as he addressed Luke.

"What's going on?"

"Kid was strangled. He was doing okay, satting around 95 on a mask when he dropped his SATS and quit breathing. Tried tubing him with an 8-0, a 7-5, and a 7-0. Can't see the cords past the swelling."

"You wanna trach him?"

"Probably his only chance."

"Alright, get me a tracheotomy tray, let's get this kid breathing again."

* * *

A/N: So I was never going to end this chapter there, but I did.

Much credit to webmd for this chapter. The beauty of symptom checker is that I can fill in a whole bunch of symptoms and pick the worse case scenario.

Until we meet again,

jetsfanforlyfe


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: Ciao! I wrote most of this from Rome, Italy! I spent the fall semester abroad, so even though I was writing it was hard to find time to update. Anyway, I still really love this story. I keep coming back to it over my other WIPs…it's kinda silly, but yay angst

Anyway, Chapter 6. Picks up pretty much where the last left off. Enjoy!

* * *

"His SATS are coming back up. Breath sounds are stronger. His color's improving, too. Good save."

"I want him up in the SICU for observation, page respiratory to get a vent. He need any other surgical intervention?"

"We're monitoring a suspected liver lac, and he's got a concussion and a skull fracture. Other than that, it's all secondary, except the ACL tear, but ortho won't touch that until he's up and about."

"Alright. You talk to the family, or you want me to?"

"It's a complicated case. Child abuse. I'm going out to talk to his friend."

"Alright, I've got a rule-out appendicitis in two. Page me when you're sending him up."

"Will do. Thanks again, Cyril."

Dr. Benson nodded, and signed off on Jason's chart, exiting through the swinging trauma room doors. Luke stayed behind, checking the tube in Jason's throat and the connection to the ventilator. He added his own notes to Dr. Benson's before handing the chart to Katie.

"I'm going to talk to the family. Keep an eye on him, and let me know if anything changes. Especially if he wakes up. He's going to be disoriented and try to fight the tube."

"Will do."

Luke pushed through the trauma room doors, chucking his gloves into the trash as he walked toward the waiting room. Pressing the security release, he zeroed in on the Bolton's, Troy and his parents staring shell-shocked in different directions.

"Family for Jason Cross?"

They stood up, and he walked toward them. Offering his hand, he greeted each of them in turn.

"My name is Luke Thelen, I'm a second-year resident here, and I've been in charge of Jason's care since he came in. If you all could follow me, we have the family room set up in the back where we can talk more privately."

"Is it that bad?" Jack joked feebly, visibly paling as they followed Luke past the security doors.

"I prefer talking back here, it's quieter," Luke smiled, opening the door to the family room and following the Boltons in.

"How is Jason?"

"Stable. He has a skull fracture and a severe concussion, both of which we're monitoring. Neurology is watching him, and if we start to suspect anything we'll send him for further tests. The neurosurgeon on staff is coming down in a few minutes to set Jason up on an intra-cranial pressure monitor, to make sure the pressure and swelling isn't putting too much strain on his brain. We also checked over his knee, and I'm afraid he exacerbated the tear that was already there."

"So he needs surgery?" Troy interrupted, his face white as he listened to the doctor's litany.

"Eventually, yes. But at the moment, we're more concerned with Jason's internal injuries."

"Internal injuries?"

"The contusions to his chest and abdomen were extensive. He has several broken ribs, and some internal bruising. We've gotten his pressure up and are keeping an eye on his hematocrit and liver function numbers. Unfortunately, it appears that Jason suffered a liver laceration. Right now it isn't too severe, and with rest and monitoring we feel he won't need surgery. However, none of these are our first concern."

"His neck."

"Yes, his neck. We determined that Jason hasn't suffered any injuries to the vertebrae or his spinal column, which is good news. However, the soft tissue injuries to his neck were extensive. Jason's breathing became an issue not long after he arrived in the ER. He went into respiratory arrest."

"Oh my God," Lucille whispered, putting a hand to her mouth.

"But you fixed him, right?" Troy was looking imploringly at the doctor, his eyes begging for good news.

"Unfortunately, the swelling to Jason's trachea and neck was extensive. I tried to intubate him several times, but I could not pass the tube. We were forced to intervene surgically."

"What do you mean?"

"Dr. Benson, our trauma surgeon, performed a tracheostomy on Jason."

"A what?"

"A tracheostomy. Dr. Benson made an incision in Jason's neck, through to his trachea, and inserted a breathing tube through the incision. We're able to ventilate Jason through the tube."

"You cut a hole in his neck?"

"I know that sounds scary, I do. But it isn't the end of the world. Jason's tracheotomy should be only temporary, and once the swelling goes down and he is able to breathe on his own, we should be able to remove the tube and allow the incision to close naturally."

"But if it doesn't?"

"We can adapt the tube for more permanent use. It will take some getting used to, both in the short term and the potential long term, but we will work with Jason and his guardians on that. Speaking of, we need to discuss Jason's care."

"He can't go back to his father."

"I agree, Mrs. Bolton. However, things get complicated from here. We've paged social services to consult, and we'll see what they say. It is my personal belief, though, that Jason will heal much better if he is in a comfortable environment, safe, and able to trust who is providing his care. Do you know if he has any family, or relatives in the area?"

"I think it's just him and Andrew. Doctor, do you think-I mean, is there a way we can take on Jason's care?"

"Honestly, Mr. Bolton, I feel that would be best for Jason. Unfortunately, the social services department doesn't always see eye to eye with us on these matters. In the end, it's a mixture of their decision and Jason's input that will decide the final outcome. Because Jason is so old, he should have more of a say in his care, but that isn't always the case. It's hit or miss depending on the case worker they send."

A shrill beeping split the silence following Luke's speech, and he checked the beeper attached to his belt. He stood up quickly, crossing to the phone on the wall.

"Excuse me for a moment." Pressing the numbers indicated on the pager, he held the receiver to his ear.

"Dr. Thelen. What's going on?" A pause. "What're his vitals? And his crit? Did you check the leads? The placement of the tube?" Another pause, during which Luke ran his hand exasperatedly through his hair. "No, keep him on a steady level and watch him closely. I'll be in in a minute."

Hanging up the phone, Luke turned back to the Boltons.

"Unfortunately, I need to cut our meeting short. It seems there was a minor complication while the neurosurgeon was inserting the ICP. I need to go check on Jason, but you are free to stay here as long as you like. I will let you know when Jason is stable enough for visitors."

"But-"

"Mrs. Bolton, I really am sorry but I have to run. I'll send a nurse in to update you."

With that Luke walked quickly to the door, exiting the room and leaving the Bolton's shocked in his wake.

* * *

"What happened?" Luke re-entered the trauma room, addressing Dr. Kowalski, the neurosurgeon who was standing at the head of Jason's bed.

"After I inserted the catheter, he dropped his pressure and pulse. I couldn't pull back, but we held off finishing. He evened out after a minute or two, and when we went to close the incision he dropped his pressure again. He's back to baseline, but it's still worrisome that he responded like that."

"Was there any excess bleeding?"

"A little from the incision, but nothing too extraordinary. We were waiting on you to re-check the ultrasound."

"And his crit is still stable?"

"About 46 at last check. He's not bleeding out from anywhere."

"Could've just been pain or injury response. Let's spin another crit, and check his liver numbers again. Get the portable ultrasound in here. Is the ICP up and running?"

"Yeah, we're good to go. So far the results look normal, no excess swelling or anything to worry about. You're sending him up to the SICU from here?"

"Yeah, Benson wants to monitor his trach for a while before clearing him to medicine. You want any special orders when we send him up?"

"Just have them check his ICP numbers every half hour or so. I'll drop in to see him when he's settled, or I'll send one of our call residents. Keep me posted."

"Sounds good. Thanks for coming down."

"No problem. Page the service when you send him up and I'll give my orders to the SICU team."

"Thanks again."

"Good luck."

Luke sighed as Dr. Kowalski exited the room, and began flipping through Jason's chart, scribbling notes and orders.

"His liver function numbers come back yet?"

"All within the baseline we established earlier. No change. His crit is stable too, 45."

"The vent looks fine, he's ventilating well. And the ICP catheter seems to be placed well. I guess it must have been the stress of the procedure. Has he shown any signs of waking?"

"With the exception of dropping his vitals, he's been pretty unresponsive."

"Alright. I'm going to let the friend's family see him before we bring him up. I have to brief them on the equipment, but I'll be back in less than ten. You know what to do if anything changes."

Luke exited the trauma room, heading back to the family room where he left the Boltons. Opening the door, he found all three seated anxiously on the couches where he'd left them, looking expectantly at him.

"Jason's fine. There was a minor complication as the surgeon was inserting the catheter for the pressure monitor, as Jason's blood pressure dropped. We've checked all his vitals, and his liver function numbers are still within range. It seems it was just a response to the pain and trauma, which is actually a good sign. It means Jason is not as deeply unconscious as we'd originally thought."

"So he's waking up?"

"Not necessarily. He's still unconscious, but it looks promising. The ICP shows no signs of increased pressure yet, and we've gotten a positive response from the ventilation with the trach tube. It seems Jason's body is just responding to the stress and trauma. It's a natural response when the body has undergone so much stress."

"So, what happens now?"

"Well, we'll be moving Jason into the surgical intensive care unit as soon as a bed is made available, and the staff is ready for him. That could be anywhere from ten minutes to a few hours. At some point social services will be in to talk with you, and hopefully Jason, about his future care. In the SCIU, Jason will be monitored by the surgical team, headed by Dr. Benson. They'll be keeping an eye on his tracheotomy, and they'll closely monitor his liver function and the ICP. If all goes well, Jason will be moved to the medical intensive care unit in a few days, and from there he'll be slowly weaned off the ventilator and moved into a step down unit."

Luke paused, reaching to rest his hand comfortingly on Troy's shoulder.

"I know this has been a lot to absorb, and that a lot has happened in a short time. But Jason is safe, and he's going to be able to recover well. Would you like to see him?"

"Can we?"

"Absolutely. I can let the three of you into the trauma room until we're ready to move Jason up to the SICU. Unfortunately, visitation rules up there are much stricter, so you'll have to speak with the charge nurse to sort that out. If you'll follow me, I'll brief you on what you'll see when you see Jason."

Luke led the Boltons from the room, slowly walking down the hallway toward the trauma room. Luke stopped them outside the room, letting them look through the glass doors at Jason's supine form. Lucille and Troy both put a hand to their mouths, gasping, while Jack unconsciously clenched his fists at his sides.

"The first, and most obvious, thing is Jason's trach tube. There is a plastic casing supporting the tube, and the tube itself leads to the ventilator. That's the machine behind the head of Jason's bed. We're supplying him with a carefully monitored flow of oxygen, the levels of which we will vary as the swelling goes down and Jason begins to try breathing on his own. As you can see, there is an IV in Jason's arm, but because of lack of access we had to put in a central line to give Jason fluids and meds. The EKG leads are attached to the monitor on your right, displaying Jason's heart rate and vital signs. The clip you see on his finger is a pulse oximeter clip, measuring the amount of oxygen in Jason's blood. Are you with me so far?"

"What about the pressure monitor in his head?"

"That is the last thing I was going to brief you on. You'll see once we get inside that there is a covered incision in Jason's skull, from which the ICP tube protrudes. It will probably look the scariest, but it is in Jason's best interest. Would you like to go in and see him?"

"Yes," Lucille whispered, nodding. Her husband and son followed her into the trauma room, gathering at the foot of Jason's bed. Luke grabbed the chart from the table at the side, flipping through.

"Has he shown any signs of response?"

"Not since the ICP was put in," Katie, the nurse attending to Jason replied. "SICU called down, said they'd be ready for him in thirty. Still no word from social services."

"Alright. Thanks, Katie. You can check on your other patients, I'll be in here for a while." Watching the nurse leave, Luke turned back to the Boltons. "Do you have any other questions for me?"

"Is he-is he in a coma?"

"Unfortunately, Troy, it's too soon to tell how deeply unconscious he is. He may wake up soon, or he may be unconscious for a while yet. Right now, we need to focus on the fact that Jason is alive, and he's stable. Anything else is background noise."

"Thank you, doctor. Thank you so much."

"Just doing my job, Mrs. Bolton. I'll be in to see you before Jason goes up. Katie here will stay with you. Anything you need, just ask her to page me."

* * *

Luke sighed, picking a chart from the triage pile, flipping through it listlessly. Not seeing a single word, he let the chart slide back into the pile, resting his head in his hands atop the admit desk.

"Rough case, Luke?"

"Hey, Shelley," Luke greeted, turning to face his colleague, Dr. Shelley Winters. "You coming on shift?"

"Not supposed to be in until 6, but I couldn't sleep. Too much excitement. Figured I'd take a few of the drunks off your hands. So what's got you stressed?"

"Child abuse case. Christ, Shel, you think they'd give it a rest on New Years."

"How bad?"

"Kid's a wreck. Benson had to trach him-he was strangled, not to mention beat to hell. We're waiting on the SICU now."

"Jesus. That's rough, Luke. Tough break."

"They never get any easier, you know? You think after so many of these, I'd be used to them. But I still can't grasp the concept of a parent attacking their own kid."

"It goes against nature. It's not supposed to make sense, and that's why these are the hardest cases."

"Dr. Thelen?"

Luke looked up to see a heavy set woman approaching the desk, the ID around her neck claiming she was from Social Services.

"I'll see you later, Luke. I hope it all works out for the kid."

"Thanks, Shel." Turning to the new arrival, Luke greeted her. "I'm Dr. Thelen. What can I do for you?"

"Marcie Parks from Social Services. You called about a patient, uh-Jason Cross?"

"Yes, I'm glad you guys got down here. He's in Trauma, we're waiting to send him up to the SICU."

"What seems to be the problem?"

"Well, he named his father as his attacker to the paramedics. He's been strangled, so he hasn't been able to speak, but when they mentioned calling his father he panicked."

"And are there previous records of abuse? Injury reports? Police reports?"

"Well, his records here are sparse, a few surgeries, broken bones. I put in a call to St. Mary's, and to the major urgent clinics around to see what comes up. His X-rays read like a textbook, though. Multiple healed rib fractures, limb fractures, skull fractures. He's got multiple surgical scars as well."

"Is he awake?"

"No. He went into respiratory arrest, and we had to trach him. He's been unconscious since. He showed up at his friend's house, that's who's in with him now."

"Well, without interviewing the patient, I can't make-"

"Luke! Need you in here, he's waking up!" Katie's voice called down the hall from the trauma room.

"Excuse me, Ms. Parks. I'm needed in Trauma. If you'd like to accompany me, I'm headed to Jason's room now."

The two entered the room to find Jason weakly tossing his head back and forth, his right hand grasping weakly at the trach tube. The Boltons were standing back in shock, watching as Katie fought to hold down Jason's arms to keep him from pulling the tube.

"Katie, stand by with one of Haldol. I don't want to sedate him, but if he fights we might not have a choice." Turning to his patient, Luke placed himself squarely in Jason's line of sight, resting his hand gently on the teen's chest.

"Jason, we talked before. My name is Luke, remember?"

At a weak attempt to nod from Jason, Luke continued.

"You're in the hospital, Jason. Do you remember what happened?" Another affirmative, and Jason appeared to be calming slowly, thought Luke kept his hand in place as a precaution. "You stopped breathing, Jason. We tried multiple times to intubate you, but your throat and trachea were just too swollen. We had to-Jason, we had to put in a tracheotomy."

Tears began to leak from Jason's eyes, trailing down his cheeks as he reached to feel the tube.

"Jason, you can't pull it out, okay? It's helping you, I promise you that. You need to relax, and let the machine help you breathe for now, okay? I know it's hard, and I know you want it out. But your throat is still too swollen. Can you relax for me?"

Watching his patient deflate slowly, Luke let out a breath.

"Jason, we need to admit you to the surgical ICU. We're waiting for them to ready a bed. There's also a pressure monitor in your head, I know that's why you feel so off. But I promise you, we're only trying to help you. No one here is going to hurt you. Troy and his parents are here to help you. Are you going to be able to relax, Jason? Do I have your word?"

Jason blinked slowly, his hand falling to his side in defeat. Luke stepped back from the bed, taking Jason's chart in his hands.

"This is Marcie Parks, from Social Services, Jason. She needs to ask you some questions about your father, but I promise I'm here for you, okay? You need to stay calm, and relax and we'll get you feeling better, Jason."

* * *

"Well, it's not ideal, but I think the best situation for him is with the friends. He's distraught, and with the trach tube, and the residual effects of the head injury and other injuries, he simply cannot go to a foster or group home. Have the police been contacted?"

"EMS sent them to the apartment. Last I heard he was in custody, they're waiting on Jason's statement."

"Once we have that, and the Bolton family checks out, he should be good to go once he's released. You've done well with him, Dr. Thelen. He really seemed to respond to you."

"He's just a kid. He's scared, and he needs someone to take care of him."

"I recommend you set him up with psych contacts. This is going to be hard on all of them. Especially if Jason is called to testify against his father."

"I've already given the Boltons a card for the psychiatrist on staff. Once he's out of ICU, they'll work with him on getting into therapy. Thank you again for coming down to sort this out."

"It's not a problem. We'll be in contact for his records and such if we need them. Happy New Year, Dr. Thelen."

"Yeah," Luke sighed, his eyes traveling into the trauma room he was standing outside of, taking in Jason in the bed, the Bolton family holding each other at his side. "Happy New Year."

* * *

This thing has a mind of its own. I have no idea where it's going anymore, which is why it's taking so long to update, but I spend forever on each chapter.

Oh well. Hope ya'll enjoyed!

Until we meet again,

jetsfanforlyfe


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